"Josephine seated herself at a rosewood secretary. 



t\}t jpapoleon Romances?* 



THE 



COMPANIONS OF JEHU, 



BY 



ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 

Vol. I. 



BOSTON: 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
1894. 



Copyright, 1894, 
By Little, Bkown, and Company. 



jvo 



University Press : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



THE ROMANCES OF ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 

Kllustrateli ^Ltbrarg lEtittion. 
Vol. XXXIX. 



THE COMPAOTOISrS OF JEHU. 

Vol. I. 



INTEODUCTORY NOTE. 



It is impossible to deny that the surpassing genius 
of Bonaparte was powerfully seconded — notably 
at the beginning of his career — by that mysteri- 
ous agency which is commonly called " luck." It 
was nothing more than a happy chance which led 
him to Toulon in 1793, when the Kepublican army 
was besieging that city, and afforded him the oppor- 
tunity, which he was so quick to seize, of display- 
ing his marvellous talents in the reduction of the 
apparently impregnable stronghold which had been 
put in English hands by the royalists in the ear- 
lier days of the Eevolution. In like manner, it 
was the fame of that exploit, which had survived 
all attempts to belittle it by persecution, which 
led Barras to place him in command of the troops 
of - the Convention at the time of the insurrection 
of the Paris Sections under the lead of the Section 
Le Peletier on the 13th Vend^miaire (5 October, 
1795), when his masterly dispositions recovered 



vi INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 

the ground that had been lost by the incapacity 
and indecision of his predecessor, General Menou, 
and made a speedy end of what seemed to be, and 
was, a dangerous revolt, among the better class of 
Parisians. The 13th Vend(^miaire was a protest 
against the decree of the expiring Convention, pro- 
viding that two thirds of the members of the 
legislative body provided for in the new Constitu- 
tion of the year III. should be chosen from the 
members of the Convention, — an enactment based 
upon motives directly contrary to the absurd scru- 
pulousness which had led the old Constituent As- 
sembly to decree that none of its members should 
be eligible for election to the Legislative Assembly, 
by which it was succeeded. 

But the Goddess Fortune never declared her- 
self more decisively in favor of the " Man of 
Destiny" than when she caused the makers of 
that same Constitution of the year III. to create 
an almost inevitable antagonism between the leg- 
islative and executive powers of the government 
constituted by that instrument, by allowing the 
executive to withdraw itself from the control of the 
legislative branch, and providing no mediatorial 
power to spare it the alternative of open rupture 
or complete submission. It was this fatal defect 
which did more than anything else to smooth the 



INTRODUCTOIIY NOTE. 



Vll 



way for the conqueror of Egypt on the 18th 
Brumaire. 

The Constitution of the year III., which was pro- 
mulgated by the Convention on the 15th August, 
1795, and went into force on the 26th of October 
following (4th Brumaire, year IV.) when the Con- 
vention was dissolved, provided tliat the govern- 
ment of the Eepublic should be vested in a 
Directory of five members, and a legislative body, 
composed of two chambers, the Council of Ancients 
and Council of Five Hundred. 

The result of the 13th Venddmiaire was that the 
minority of the Councils, who were chosen by the 
electors to sit with the two thirds chosen from 
members of the Convention, were taken from the 
party hostile to the Convention ; and the majority 
met this expression of the wishes of the nation by 
choosing five regicides to the Directory, — Barras, 
Carnot, Eewbell, La Eeveill^re-Lepaux, and Le- 
tourneur. As one third of the Councils chancjed 
every year, but only one fifth of the Directory, it 
was not long before the executive with a majority 
of regicides found itself at open war with Councils 
which contained a majority of reactionaries. 

The result was a succession of coups d'etat, begin- 
ning with that of the 18th Fructidor (4 September, 
1797), which is truthfully and interestingly de- 



viii 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



scribed by Dumas in " The Whites and the Blues," ^ 
when the Directory triumphed, and wreaked a cruel 
vengeance upon men who had deserved better of 
them and of the country, — a coup cVetat of which 
it has been said that "it destroyed the independence 
of a nation wearied of changes, and of the various 
parties by whom it had been so often deceived." 

The places vacated by the defeated minority of 
the Directory, Carnot and Barthdlemy, the latter of 
whom had previously replaced Letourneur, were 
filled by Franc^ois de Neufch^teau and Merlin de 
Douai, the former of whom was soon succeeded by 
Treilhard. 

History was made very fast in those days. Bona- 
parte was with the army of Italy, when the coup 
fVetat of the 18th Fructidor took place. His marvel- 
lous successes in Italy and in Austria, however much 

1 " The Whites and the Blues," although written at a later date 
than the " Companions of Jehu," deals with a somewliat earlier 
period. It is largely devoted to a narration of the events of the 
13th Yendemiaire and the 18th Fructidor, especially with refer- 
ence to the part taken by Bonaparte therein. The Corapanions of 
Jehu, with Morgan as their leader, figure largely in the romantic 
portion of the work, in which tlie heroic Cadoudal also plays a part 
of some prominence. The " Eighth Crusade," which is appended 
to " The Whites and the Blues," is concerned with the leading events 
of the campaign in Syria. We are there introduced to several oth- 
ers of the characters who figure in these pages, — notably Eoland 
de Montrevel, then just developing the characteristics which made 
him so dear to his idolized leader. 



INTRODUCTOKY NOTE. 



ix 



they may be marred in the eyes of posterity by his 
utter sacrifice of all the ordinary rules of interna- 
tional comity in such transactions as the violation 
of the neutrality of Venice, and the subsequent par- 
tition of its territories in the treaty of Campo 
Eormio, — his successes, we say, had placed him in 
the public mind far above the members of the Direc- 
tory, and he had begun to do more than dream of 
the day when he should be called upon to succeed 
them. But although he hated and despised them, 
he was led to sustain them in their quarrel with the 
Councils, both by his interest and his feeling, — by 
his interest, because the triumph of the constitu- 
tional party would render a military dictatorship 
impossible ; and by his feeling, because the opposi- 
tion, while blaming the excess of power usurped 
by the Directory at Paris, could not, without stul- 
tifying themselves, countenance the vastly more 
glaring abuses of his own authority in Italy, which 
indeed they had already condemned. It has been 
well said that "the 18th Fructidor, 1797, was the 
logical forerunner of the 18th Brumaire, 1799." 

And so, as Dumas has told us in "The Whites 
and the Blues," he sent General Augereau to Paris 
to assist the Directors against the constitutional 
opposition, on the ground that they were royalist 
conspirators, and furnished them with the proofs 



X 



INTEODUCTOEY NOTE. 



of Pichegru's correspondence with the Prince de 
Conde. 

On his return to Paris on the 5th December, 
1797, Bonaparte became at once the centre of obser- 
vation, and was made the recipient of banquets and 
fetes which attested his unsurpassable popularity. 
The Eue Chantereine, on which his modest house 
was situated, was renamed Eue de la Victoire by the 
municipality, as a delicate compliment to the hero 
of the Bridge of Lodi, and of Arcole. There is no 
doubt that many people were already urging him to 
seize the reins of power, and that the Directors knew 
it well. But they ^new also that nothing was as 
yet ready for the dictatorship, although they were 
seriously alarmed at his increasing popularity and 
secretly did all they could to diminish it, while they 
warmly urged him to undertake the enterprise 
which was to crown his glory, and was announced 
to Europe through the title he received of " Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the army of England." 

During the two months which immediately fol- 
lowed his return, neither his correspondence nor 
his acts betrayed 'any sign of any other purpose 
than the invasion of England, although the vast 
and magnificent schemes, of which the conquest 
of Egypt was but a trifling part, had long been 
forming in his brain, and it is reasonably cer- 



Alexandre Dumas, Fils. 



INTKODUCTORY NOTE. 



xi 



tain that he never intended to invade England 
at all. 

" Too much stress," says a recent writer, " cannot 
be laid upon such indications coming from so crafty 
a nature ; and the first intimation of a change of 
purpose has more the appearance of stripping off a 
mask than of awakening from a dream." ^ 

Early in March he made known his plans for an 
expedition to seize Egypt and Malta to the Direc- 
tory, whose ready consent, in view of the unsettled 
state of the government and the prospect of a fresh 
coalition against it, can be explained only by their 
dread of the rising power of this man, whose ambi- 
tion increased with his increasing fortunes. 

The funds required for the expedition were sup- 
plied by the occupation of Eome and the invasion 
of Switzerland, — both acts utterly indefensible, and 
for which the most trivial pretexts were alleged. 

On the 19th of May, 1798, the vast armament 
set sail from Toulon, carrying with it almost every 
officer who had youth, energy, and daring, for the 
Directory, in their eagerness to be rid of Bonaparte's 
presence, allowed him to carry off the strength and 
flower of the nation. 

It has been boldly asserted by writers hostile to 

1 Captain A. T. Mahan in " The Influences of Sea Power upon 
the French Kevolution and Empire." 



xii 



INTRODUCTOEY NOTE. 



Bonaparte, — notably by Lanfrey in his " History 
of Napoleon," — that the Egyptian expedition was 
undertaken by him with the expectation that the 
government would experience reverses during his 
absence, and that his return would be essential in 
order to stem the tide of defeat. But such writers 
go further than the evidence warrants, even if we 
admit the possibility of such a daring attempt to 
play with the welfare of the Eepublic. For although 
the reverses did not fail to come, they were mainly 
chargeable, as Captain Mahan has conclusively 
shown, to the fatal event which destroyed the foun- 
dation upon which Bonaparte's Oriental visions 
rested, restored the supremacy of the Mediterranean 
to Great Britain, and renewed the courage of all 
the enemies of France throughout the world, — the 
glorious and decisive victory of Nelson in the Bay 
of Aboukir, on August 1, 1798, known to history 
as the Battle of the Nile. 

The year which followed, while Bonaparte and 
his army were cut off from all communication with 
the European world, and their fate was altogether 
unknown, was occupied by him in the conquest of 
Egypt, and the campaign in Syria, terminating in 
the fruitless siege of Acre. He returned to Egypt 
in June, 1799, and on July 25 defeated the Turks 
in the land-battle of Aboukir. 



INTRODUCTOEY NOTE. 



xiii 



Says Captain Mahan : — 

After the defeat flags of truce passed between 
Bonaparte and the British commodore" (Sir Sidney 
Smith, who had had much to do with the stubborn 
and successful defence of Acre), " through which the 
former received English newspapers np to the 10th 
of June. By them he learned the victorious advance 
of the second coalition, and the defeats of the French 
in Germany and Italy. His resolution was speedily 
taken to return to France. It has been disputed 
whether this was a sudden determination not before 
entertained, as asserted by his secretary Bourrienne, 
or whether it represents a purpose gradually and 
naturally formed. It is, however, certain that the 
thought had long been familiar to him. . . . 

"In truth, his keen military sagacity, resembling 
the most delicate yet most highly cultivated intui- 
tions, had divined the misfortunes awaiting France 
at the time he learned by the Baguson ship that 
Naples had declared war, and that all the Powers 
were arming." 

He left Kl^ber in command of a diminished and 
prostrated army, and landed at Fr^jus on the 15th 
of October, 1799. 

The news of his arrival was published in the 
"Moniteur" before it had completed its publication 
of the accounts of the campaign in Syria and the 



xiv 



INTRODUCTOEY NOTE. 



youthful general's other exploits, which had come 
to hand with the news of the battle of Aboukir, and 
had produced an extraordinary effect altogether out 
of proportion to their real importance. 

In May, 1799, the elections of one third of the 
Councils had resulted in making both of those 
bodies overwhelmingly hostile to the Directory, 
and they had taken revenge for the 18th Fructidor 
by the 30th Prairial, when, Sieyfes having been 
chosen to take the place of Eewbell, whose term 
expired, Treilhard, La-Eeveillfere, and Merlin were 
compelled to resign, and their seats were filled by 
Gohier, Moulins, and Eoger-Ducos. Bonaparte was 
quick to see that the power was passing out of the 
hands of the Directors, and that his hour had come. 
Less than four weeks after he landed at Fr^jus, the 
18th Brumaire (9th November, 1799) had come 
and gone, and the young man of thirty was in fact, 
if not yet in name, the supreme ruler of France. 
Sieyfes and Eoger-Ducos joined him in the provi- 
sional government, until the Constitution of the year 
VIII. was adopted by the subservient Councils, and 
Bonaparte became First Consul, content to bestow 
upon Cambac^rfes and L^brun the empty honor of 
association with him as Second and Third Consuls 
for the few months which intervened before the 
Consulate for life was bestowed upon him. 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



XV 



Dumas is, as always, scrupulously accurate in the 
strictly historical parts of the narrative. Indeed, as 
he has himself said, the " Companions of Jehu," 
like "The Whites and the Blues," is romanticized 
history rather than historical romance. The events 
of the 18th Brumaire and of the days immediately 
preceding it follow very closely the most authentic 
accounts, and the author has followed his custom- 
ary plan of weaving into his work innumerable 
small details of undoubted historical truth. Such, 
for instance, are the account of Madame Bonaparte's 
reception, and her husband's different manner of 
receiving the different generals, the proposition to 
dine with the Gohiers on the 17th Brumaire, and 
the invitation to the early breakfast on the 18th. 
By assigning to Moreau the compromising post of 
standing guard over the Directors at the Luxem- 
bourg, Bonaparte rid himself of the only rival whom 
he dreaded. Moreau fell into the snare, repented 
when it was too late, and remained for the rest of his 
life crushed by the " remembrance of Brumaire." 

It may be said that the letters between Pitt and 
Bonaparte, of which Sir John Tanlay is made the 
bearer, were really exchanged through Lord Gren- 
ville, then Secretary of Foreign Affairs. 

Posterity has not failed to do justice to the 
magnificent qualities of the galaxy of noble-hearted 



xvi 



IXTRODUCTOEY KOTE. 



men by whom Bonaparte was surrounded, many of 
whom would have appeared of herculean stature by 
the side of any other than their leader. 

In his own preliminary chapters the author has 
fully stated the authorities upon which he has 
based those portions of the narrative which deal 
directly with the insurrections in La Yendde and 
Bretagne. After the pacification of those provinces 
by the firm but kindly hand of Hoche in 1795, the 
efforts of royalist agents and the facility with which 
supplies were received from England caused the 
spirit of revolt to break out ever and anon, and 
the story is always the same, — of absolute for- 
getfulness of self, and almost incredible heroism 
in behalf of a selfish and ungrateful race. 

As it had been in 1793 under Charette, Stofflet, 
and La Eochejacquelin, so it was in 1799 under 
Comte Louis de Frott^ and the indomitable Georges 
Cadoudal. 

" The Consuls think " — so wrote the First Consul 
to Hedouville January 5, 1800 — "that the generals 
ought to have the chief rebels shot on the spot, when 
taken with arms in their hands. . . . However 
crafty they may be, they are less so than the Arabs 
of the Desert." 

His impatience and irritation were further shown 
in his proclamation of the 11th January. " Let the 



INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 



xvii 



brigands find no asylum against the soldier who 
pursues them, and if any traitor dares to receive 
and defend them, let him perish with them." 

His historical interview with Cadoudal took 
place somewhat later than this. He almost imme- 
diately regretted that he had allowed him to escape, 
and when he heard that he had returned to France 
after a short visit to England, he wrote Berna- 
dotte letter after letter, urging him to get rid of 
him by any means. 

" Take that rascal Georges alive or dead," he 
wrote on the 4th June, 1800. "If you once get 
hold of him, have him shot within twenty-four 
hours, as having been in England after the cap- 
itulation." 

Again, on the 4th July, " Capture that wretch 
Georges, and have him shot in twenty-four hours." 

These expressions sufficiently betoken the First 
Consul's fear of the man, when we reflect that there 
was at this time no insurrection either in Bretagne 
or La Yendde. 

A love-episode which has for its hero a royalist 
noble of La Vendue could not well have any other 
than a tragical conclusion ; it is none the less en- 
grossing, however, and the final and touching catas- 
trophe is heightened in interest by assigning to the 

VOL I. — b 



xviii 



INTRODUCTOEY NOTE. 



mother and brother of Amdlie leading roles in the 
ruin of her lover. In no other of his books has 
Dumas been more successful in delineating char- 
acters which appeal to the admiring and affec- 
tionate interest of his readers. 



LIST OP CHARACTERS. 



Period, 1799-1800. 



bis brothers. 



Napoleon Bonapaete, General of the armies of Egypt, after- 
wards First Consul. 
Josephine, his wife. 
Joseph Bonaparte, 
Lucien Bonaparte, 
Eauvelet de Bourrienne, Napoleon's Secretary. 
Cambaceres, ) s^^^^^ (.^^^^j^^ 
Lebrtjn, ) 

General Bernadotte, brother-in-law to Joseph Bonaparte. 
Hortense Beauharnais. 
Eugene Beauharnais. 

MM. Berthier, Sulkowsky, Croisier, aides-de-camp to 
Napoleon. 

Generals Desaix, Chamberlhac, Mar- 

mont, Kellermann, Champeaux, 

EiVAUD, Victor, and Watrin, 
Marshal Murat, 
Colonel Dupour, 

Generals Beurnonville, Macdonald, Moreau, 

Lefebvre, Debel, Lannes, Junot, 
Colonel Sebastiani, 
Begnault de St. Jean d'Angely, 
MM. Monge, Bertholet, Laplace, Arnault, 

BouLAY, De Fontanes, 



officers serving 
under Napoleon in 
the Italian Cam- 
paign of 1800. 



adherents 
of Napo- 
leon. 



XX 



LIST OF CHAEACTERS. 



M. BarraSj 1 

M. SiETES, I of the Directory governing Prance prior 

M. MorLixs, r to the Consulate. 

M. RoGZK Drcos, j 

Citizen Gohize, President of the Directory. 
MM, Baeillox, pAE&rzs, and CoexeTj of the Council of the 
Ancients. 

Madame Gohiee, ^ife of the President of the Directory. 
M. DE Talleykand, Minister of Foreign Aliairs. 
Joseph Pouche, Minister of Police. 
M. Dubois-Ceance, Minister of War. 

Gexeeal Jube, commanding the Luxembourg under the 
Directory. 

Gexebal Hedoutille, commanding the Republican troops of 
la A'endee. 

Gexeeals Hoche, Scheeee, Joubeet, Mas- '] of&cers in the 
SEXA, PiCHEGEU, Beuxe, Lecouebe, armics of the 
Hatey, Molitoe, and Keebee, J Prench Puepublic. 

Adaiieals Beuix and Gaxteauile. 

Saxteeee, a brevrer. 

CiTizEX Tho:^ias Millieee, a commissioner of the Executive 
power. 

CoLOXEE Loris EE MoxTEEYEL, Called Roland, aide-de-camp 

to Xapoleon. 
Madaaie de Moxtreyel, Ills mother. 
AiiELiE DE MoxTEEYEL, Roland's sister. 
Edtvaed de Moxtreyel, Roland's younger brother. 
SiE JoHX Taxlay, an Enghshman, friend to Roland. 
The Duke oe Yoek, 

Gexeeals Souyaeoef, Kosahofe, O'Reilly, 

Klexau, Hotze, Rosexberg, Bellegaede, 

HEEiiAXX, Melas, Haddick, Kaim, Ott, 

Elsxitz, and Zach. 
George III., Xing of England, 
Lord Geexyille. 



officers of the 
armies fight- 
ing against 
Prance. 



LIST OF CHARACTERS. 



xxi 



Cliouans serving under 
Georges Cadoudal. 



Lord Whitwouth, English ambassador at Petersburg. 
Paul, Czar of Russia. 

CoMTE DE PiiovENCE, afterwards Louis XVIIL 

Geojiges Cadoudal, General-in-Chief of the Royalist army of 

Bretagne. 
Ca;uR-DE-Roi, Pend l'Air, 

Branche d'Or, La Giberne, 
Brise-Bleu, Sabre-tout, 
Chante-en-Hiver, Pleur d'I^pine, 
Monte a l'Assaut, Moustache, 
Alfred de Barjols, 
Abbe de Rians, 
Joseph Cadoudal, 
Lahaye Saint-Hilaire, 
Cadenette, a hair-dresser. 
MM. PouLPiQUEz, Burban-Malabry, Bonfils, 

Dampherne, Duchayla, Duparc, La Roche, 

PuRSAYE, Tifpanges, and Saint Amand, 
MM. DE Chardou, Teysonnet, Escarbo- 1 

ville, Achille Leblond, D'Auti- 

CHAMP, Suzannet, Grignon, Protte, 

Chatillon, Bourmont, 
Baron de Sainte-Hermine, passing under the name of Morgan, 

cliief of the companions of Jehu . 
Comte de Jahiat, styling himself Montbar, 
Vicomte de Valensolle, otherwise called Adler, 
Marquis de Ribier, known as D'Assas, 
Hastier, passing under the name of Lecoq, 
Renard, 
L'Hirondelle, 
Amiet, 
Laurent, 

Marquis Tiburce Valence, Governor of the Paris Military 

School. 
Valence, his nephew. 
AuDREiN, Bishop of Vannes. 



Royalists. 



officers commanding 
■ adherents of the 
Bourbons. 



companions 
of Jehu. 



xxii 



LIST OF CHARACTERS. 



Ventura, an interpreter. 

Djezzar PachAj commanding Saint-Jean d'Acre. 
The President of the Court at Boueg. 
TalmAj an actor. 

Citizen Lecomte, architect of the Tuileries. 
Jean Picot, a wine merchant. 
M. Peraud, a watchmaker. 
Jerome, conductor of a diligence. 
Antoine, a postilion. 
CouRTOis, a jailer at Bourg, 
Dr. Milliet, a Bourg physician. 
Pierre Marey, \ 



Claud Philippon, J 
Michel, a gardener in the service of Madame de Montrevel. 
Jacques, his son. 
Charlotte, Amelie's maid. 
James, confidential servant of Sir John Tanlay. 



Patau T, 




ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Alexandre Dumas, Fils Vol. I. Tage X 

Napoleon Vol. II. 194- 



©riginal Illustrations. 



"Josephine seated herself at a rosewood 

secretary" Vol. I. Frontispiece 

Drawn and etched by E. Van Muj^den. 

The Duel Page 46 

Drawn by F. T. Merrill. 

The Judgment 190 

Drawn and etched by E. Van Muyden. 

The Eirst Consul receives News from 

England Vol. II. Frontispiece 

Drawn and etched by E. Van Muyden. 

Napoleon and Roland Fage 6 

Drawn by F. T. Merrill. 

"Cadoudal put spurs to his horse and 

leaped over horse and rider " 85 

Drawn and etched by E. Van Muyden. 



CONTENTS OF VOLUME 1. 



Page 

A Word to the Header xxvii 

Prologue liii 



Chajpteb 

I. A Table d'Hote 1 

II. An Italian Proverb 15 

III. The Englishman 28 

IV. The Duel 38 

V. EOLAND 50 

YI. Morgan 72 

VIL The Monastery of Seillon 85 

YIII. The Directory's Money 92 

IX. Romeo and Juliet 99 

X. Roland's Pamily 105 

XI, The Chateau of Noires-Pontaines . . . 112 

XII. Provincial Pleasures 123 

XIII. The Boar 135 

XIV. An Unpopular Errand 147 

XV. A Strong Mind 157 

XVI. The Ghost 166 

XVII. A Search 174 



XXvi CONTENTS. 

Chapter Page 

XYIII. The Judgment 182 

XIX. The Little House in the E,ue de la Yic- 

TOIEE 192 

XX. General Bonaparte's Guests 204 

XXI. The Balance Sheet op the Directory . 213 

XXII. The Plan por a Decree 228 

XXIII. Ale A jacta est 236 

XXIV. The 18th Brumaire 252 

XXV. An Important Communication 262 

XXVI. The Ball op the Victims 280 

XXVII. The Bear-skin 293 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



IT is about a year since my old friend, Jules Simon, 
the author of " Devoir," came to ask me to write a 
story for the "Journal pour Tous." I described a sub- 
ject that I had in my head ; it suited him, and we signed 
the agreement then and there. The scene was laid from 
1791 to 1793, and the first chapter opened at Varennes, 
on the evening of the arrest of the king. 

Although the "Journal pour Tous" was in haste, I 
asked him for a fortnight before I should begin my story. 
I wanted to go to Varennes. I did not know Varennes. 

There is one thing that I cannot do, and that is, write 
a book or a drama upon localities that I have never seen. 
Before writing " Christine," I went to Fontainebleau ; for 
" Henry III.," I went to Blois ; for the " Mousquetaires," 
I went to Bologne and Bethune ; for " Monte Cristo," I 
went to the Catalans and to the Chateau dTf; for "Isaac 
Laquedem," I went to Home ; and I have lost more time 
in studying Jerusalem and Corinth at a distance than if I 
had gone there. 

This gives such a character of truth to what I write, 
that the people whom I create appear to belong in the 
places where I have put them ; so much so, that they 
actually seem to have existed. There are even people who 
have known them. 



xxviii 



A WORD TO THE READEE. 



I will tell you something in confidence, dear readers ; 
only do not repeat it. I don't want to harm those honest 
men who live b}^ this little industry ; but if you go to 
Marseilles they will show you Morel's house on the Cours, 
Mercedes' house at the Catalans, and the cells of Dantes 
and Faria at the Chateau d'If. When I put " Monte 
Cristo " upon the boards at the Theatre Historique, I 
wrote to Marseilles for them to make me a picture of the 
Chateau d'If, and send it to me. This drawing was des- 
tined for the scene-painter. The artist to whom I applied 
sent me the required drawing, only he did better than I 
had dared to ask. He wrote under the drawing : A 
view of the Chateau d'If, at the place where Dantes was 
thrown over the cliff." I have since learned that the 
worthy guide attached to the Chateau d'If sold pens which 
were made by the Abbe Faria himself. 

There is only one objection to all this, — and that is 
that Dantes and the Abbe Faria never existed except in 
my imagination; and that consequently Dantes could not 
have been thrown from the Chateau d'If, nor could the 
Abbe Faria have made pens. But this is what comes of 
visiting localities. 

I desired therefore to visit Yarennes before beginning 
my story, the first chapter of which was to be laid there. 
And then, historically, Yarennes puzzled me. The more 
I read of the historical relations of Yarennes the less I 
understood, geographicall}^, of the arrest of the king. I 
proposed therefore to my young friend Paul Bocage to 
come with me. I was sure that he would accept. To pro- 
pose such a trip to him was to make him leap from his 
chair to the railroad. 

"\Ye took the train for Chalons. At Chalons we bargained 
with a man who, for five francs a day, let us have a horse 
and carriage. We were seven days on the way, — three 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xxix 



days going from Chalons to Varennes, three days returning 
from Varennes to Chalons, and one day making our local 
researches in the town. 

I found, with a satisfaction which you can easily under- 
stand, that not one historian had been historical ; and, 
with still greater satisfaction, that M. Thiers had heen 
less historical than all the rest. I had suspected this, but 
I had not been sure of it. The only one who had been 
exact, absolutely so, was Victor Hugo, in his book entitled 
" The Ehine." It is true that Victor Hugo is a poet and 
not a historian. What historians these poets would make, 
if they would only consent to it ! 

One day Lamartine asked me to what I attributed the 
immense success of his " llistoire des Girondins." I 
replied : " To the fact that you rose to the height of a 
romance." He listened thoughtfully, and ended by being 
of my opinion. 

I stayed, then, one day at Varennes, and visited all the 
localities necessary for my romance, which was to be en- 
titled " Rene d'Argonne." Then I returned. 

My son was in the country at Sainte- Assise, near Melun ; 
my room was waiting for me, and I resolved to go there 
and write my story. I do not know two characters more 
opposite than those of my son and myself, nor yet two 
which agree better together. We have certainly some 
good hours away from each other, but we never have 
better ones than when we are together. 

Well, for three or four days I sat there, trying to begin 
my Rene d'Argonne," taking up my pen and putting it 
down again. I could not do it. 

I consoled myself by telling stories. By chance I told 
one whicli had been related to me by Nodier. It was that 
of four young men belonging to the Company of Jehu, 
who had been executed at Bourg, in Bresse, under the 



XXX 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



most highly dramatic circumstances. One of these yonng 
men was only nineteen and a half years old. 

Alexandre listened to my stor}^ attentively. Then when 
I had finished, he said, — 

" Do you know what I would do in your place 1 " 

" What 1 " 

" I would let ' Rene d'Argonne ' go^ and I would write 
' The Companions of Jehu ' in its place." 

But just think ! I have had the other story in my 
mind for a year or two, and it is almost done." 

" It will never be done, since it is not done yet." 

" Perhaps you are right, but I should lose six months 
in getting to where. I am with that." 

" Oh, in three days you will have written half a volume." 

"Then you will help me^' 

"Yes, I will give you two characters." 

" Is that all?" 

" You are too exacting ; the rest is your afi'air. I am 
doing my ' Question d'Argent.' " 

" Well, what are your two characters 1 " 
"An English gentleman and a French captain." 
"Let's hear about the Englishman first." 
" Very well." 

And Alexandre drew the portrait of Lord Tanlay for me. 

" Your English gentleman suits me very well," I said ; 
"now let's hear about your French captain." 

" My French captain is a mysterious personage, who 
tries by every means to get himself killed, and does not 
succeed; and each time he- makes the attempt he accom- 
plishes some deed of bravery which wins promotion for 
him." 

" But why does he try to get killed 1 " 
" Because he is disgusted with life." 
" And why is he disgusted with life 1 " 



A WORD TO THE EEADER. 



xxxi 



Ah, tliat is the secret of the book.'' 
''But it will have to be told." 
" If I were in your place I would not tell it." 
" The readers will demand it." 

" You have only to reply to them that they must look 
for it. Something must be left to their imagination." 
"My dear boy, I should be overwhelmed with letters." 
"You need not answer them." 

" Yes ; but at least for my own satisfaction I must know 
why my hero wants to die." 

" Oh, I will not refuse to tell you.'' 
"Very well." 

" Well, suppose that instead of being a professor of 
logic, Abeilard had been a soldier." 
"Weill" 

" Well, suppose a bullet — " 
"Very good ! " 

" You understand ! Instead of retiring to Paraclete, he 
would have done everything in his power to get himself 
killed." 

" Hum ! " 

"Weill" 

" That is rather hard." 

" What do you mean 1 " 

" Hard to make the public swallow." 

" But you won't tell the public." 

" That is a fact ! Upon my word, I don't know but 
you are right." 
"Certainly I am." 
" Wait ! " 
"I am waiting." 

" Have you Nodier's ' Souvenirs of the Revolution ' 1 " 
" I have the whole of Nodier." 

" Go and look in the ' Souvenirs of the Eevolution.' I 



xxxii 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



believe he lias one or two pages on Guy on, Lepretre, 
Amiet, and Hjvert." 

" You will he accused of having plagiarized Nodier." 

" Oh, he liked me well enough when he was living to 
give me what I want now. Go and look for his ' Sou- 
venirs of the Etivolution ' ! " 

Alexandre went and brought it to me, I opened the 
book, turned over three or four pages, and finally found 
what I was looking for. A little of Nodier, dear reader, 
will do you no harm. This is what he says : — 

" The robbers of diligences, of whom I just spoke in the 
article on Amiet, were called Lepretre, Hyvert, Guyon, and 
Amiet. 

"Lepretre was forty-eight years old ; he was a captain of 
dragoons and a Chevalier of St. Louis. He had a noble face, 
a fine figure, and great elegance of manners. 

"Guyon and Amiet were never known under their true 
names. These were the ones written on their passports. 
Imagine two hair-brained fellows between twenty and thirty 
years of age, bound together by some common responsibility, 
which might have been either a good or bad action, or by a 
still more delicate and generous interest, — the fear of com- 
promising their family name, — and you will recognize Guyon 
and Amiet 'as I remember them. The latter had a sinister 
face, and perhaps the bad reputation which biographers have 
given him is owing to this fact. 

" Hyvert was the son of a rich merchant of Lyons, who 
offered sixty thousand francs to the oQicer in charge of him if 
he would allow him to escape. He was at once the Achilles 
and the Paris of the band. His figure was slender, but well 
made and graceful ; his eye was alwaj^s animated, and his 
mouth smiling. He had one of those faces that cannot be for- 
gotten, composed as they are of an indescribable mixture of 
gentleness and strength, of tenderness and energy. When he 
gave himself up to the eloquent petulance of his inspirations, 
he rose to the height of enthusiasm. His conversation showed 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xxxiii 



the foundation of a good education, and much natural wit ; 
but he had an expression of gayety which contrasted horribly 
with his position. For the rest, he was good, generous, humane, 
and tender always of the weak, although he liked to display 
his athletic strength, which his rather feminine features were 
far from indicating. He prided himself upon having never 
wanted for money, and upon never having had an enemy. 
This was his only reply to the accusation of theft and assas- 
sination. He was twenty-two years old. 

"These four men had been accused of having attacked a dili- 
gence which was carrying forty thousand francs of government 
money. The operation was executed in broad daylight, and 
with the greatest friendliness. The travellers, who had no in- 
terest in the matter, concerned themselves very little about it. 

Upon this particular day a boy ten years old, wonderfully 
brave, seized the conductor's pistol, and fired into the midst of 
the assailants. As the peaceful weapon was loaded only with 
powder, no one was wounded ; but among the passengers there 
was great fear of retaliation. The little boy's mother was 
seized with such a dreadful attack of hysterics that it absorbed 
the attention of all, and particularly that of the brigands. 
One of them hastened to her, reassuring her in the most affec- 
tionate manner, congratulating her upon the precocious cour- 
age of her son, and lavishing upon her the salts and perfumes 
with which these gentlemen were usually provided for their 
own use. She finally came to herself, and her travelling com- 
panions noticed that in the commotion the robber's mask had 
fallen off", but they did not see his face. 

" The police of the time were not powerful, and could not 
oppose the operations of the bandits to any extent ; but they 
succeeded in getting upon their track and arresting them, 
Lepretre, Hyvert, Guyon, and Amiet were brought before the 
tribunal of a neighboring department. No one had suff'ered 
by their attempt except the public treasury, in which no one 
was interested, because no one knew to whom it belonged. 
They could not be recognized except by the beautiful lady, 
who took care not to do it. They were unanimously acquitted. 

" However, public opinion was so manifest and so pro- 

VOL. I. — C 



xxxiv 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



noiinced that tlie public minister was obliged to appeal from 
the judgment. It was set aside; but such was then the uncer- 
tainty of the reigning power that they feared to offend those who 
might on the next day be possessed of power themselves. The 
accused were sent before the tribunal of Ain, in the city of 
Bourg, where their friends, relatives, and accomplices were. 
They thought they would satisfy one party by bringing back 
the victims, and they were certain not to displease the other by 
giving them almost infallible assurances of safety. Their en- 
trance into the j)risons was, in fact, a sort of triumphal 
march. 

" The trial recommenced. At first it had the same results 
as the preceding one. The four accused men were furnished 
with a false alibi, — which was, however, signed by a hundred 
names, and for which they would have had no difficulty in find- 
ing ten thousand. All moral convictions fell before the pres- 
ence of such an authority. Their acquittal seemed certain, until 
a question from the president changed the aspect of the trial, 

" ' Madame,' said he to the lady who had been so kindly as- 
sisted by one of the bandits, * which one of the accused cared 
for you so well ? ' 

" This unexpected form of interrogation confused her ideas. 
It is probable that her thoughts admitted the fact as recognized, 
and that she saw in the question only a means of softening the 
fate of the man who so interested her. ' It was that gentle- 
man,' she said, indicating Lepretre. 

" The four accused, who had just established their alibi, fell 
under the ban of condemnation by this fact alone. They rose 
and bowed to her, smiling. ' There,' said Hyvert, sinking back 
upon his seat with a burst of laughter, 'there, Captain, that 
will teach you to be gallant ! ' 

" I have heard that this unhappy lady died of grief a short 
time afterward. 

" There was the customary appeal, but this time it gave 
little hope. The Revolutionary party, which Napoleon was to 
crush a month later, had regained the ascendency. Those of 
the opposite party were compromised by odious excesses. It 
was necessary to make some example, and they accordingly 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



XXXV 



took advantage of this opportunity, as is the custom in difficult 
times ; for it is with governments as with men, — the weak- 
est are the most cruel. Besides, the company of Jehu had no 
longer a compact existence. The heroes of this ferocious band, 
Debeauce, Hastier, Bary, LeCoq, Dabri, Delboulbe, and Stork- 
enfeld, had fallen upon the scaffold or elsewhere. There was 
no help for the condemned ones in the enterprising courage of 
these men, who were not even capable henceforth of defending 
their own lives, and who died in cold blood, like Piard, at the 
end of a banquet, to spare justice or vengeance the trouble of 
killing them. 

" Our bandits had to die ; their appeal was rejected. But 
the judicial authority was not the first to be apprised of the 
tact; three shots beneath the prison walls warned the con- 
demned ones. The commissary of the executive Directory, who 
took the place of the public minister at the tribunals, alarmed 
at this indication of connivance, asked for an armed force, of 
w^hich my uncle was then the chief. At six o'clock in the 
morning sixty armed men were drawn up before the gate of the 
prison yard. 

" Although the turnkeys had taken every possible precaution 
to prevent any one from entering the cell of the four unfortu- 
nate men, whom they had left on the previous night carefully 
bound and loaded with heavy irons, the prisoners on the fol- 
lowing morning were free, and armed to the teeth. They went 
out without difficulty, after having shut up their keepers under 
locks and bolts ; and being provided with all the keys, they 
quickly crossed the space which separated them from the 
prison yard. The sight of them must have been startling to 
the people who were waiting before the gates. To give perfect 
liberty to their movements, and perhaps to affect a security 
still more menacing than the reputation for strength and intre- 
pidity which attached to their name, — perhaps even to dis- 
guise the flow of blood which could be seen so easily upon 
white linen, and which would betray the last efforts of a man 
wounded to the death, — they came forth naked to the waist. 
With their suspenders crossed over their breasts, their large 
belts bristling with weapons, and their cry of assault and fury, 



XXXVi A WORD TO THE READER. 



there must have been something horribly fantastic about their 
appearance. 

" When they reached the yard, they saw the soldiers drawn 
up, motionless, in a line which it was impossible to break 
through. They stopped for a moment and appeared to confer 
among themselves. Then Lepretre, who was, as we have said, 
the eldest and their chief, saluted the crowd with his hand, 
saying, with a noble grace peculiar to himself, ' Very well, 
gentlemen of the guard.' Then he stepped in front of his 
comrades, addressed a quick and final adieu to them, and blew 
out his brains. Guyon, Amiet, and Hyvert stood upon the 
defensive, with the muzzles of their pistols turned upon the 
armed force. 

" They did not shoot, but the soldiers regarded this as a 
demonstration of hostility, and fired. Guyon fell dead upon 
the body of Lepretre, who had not stirred, and Amiet had his 
thigh broken near the groin. The ' Biographie des Contem- 
porains' says that he was executed, but I have heard it re- 
peatedly told that he died at the foot of the scafi'old. 

" Hyvert remained alone. His determined countenance ; 
his terrible eye ; his pistols moving quickly in his hands and 
threatening death to the spectators ; a certain admiration which 
was attached to the despair of a beautiful young man with, 
floating hair, who had never been known to destroy humanity, 
and yet of whom justice demanded an expiation of blood; the 
sight of those three corpses, over which he bounded like a 
wolf pursued by the hunters ; the frightful novelty of the spec- 
tacle, — all this suspended for a moment the fury of the guards. 
Perceiving it, he took advantage of it. ' Gentlemen,' he said, 
' I die willingly ; but if any one comes near me I will kill 
him, even if it should be that man himself,' pointing to the 
executioner. ' This is my own affair, and I want no interfer- 
ence.' They gave him his wish, for there was no one there 
who was not horrified at the tragedy and did not desire its 
end. 

" When Hyvert saw that he had gained his point, he took 
one of his pistols in his teeth, drew a dagger from his belt, and 
plunged it into his breast up to the hilt. He remained upright, 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



XXXV ii 



apparently astonished to find that he was still alive. They 
attempted to approach him. ' Take care, gentlemen ! ' he cried, 
pointing again towards the advancing men the pistols which he 
had seized, as the blood spurted from the wound, where the 
dagger still remained. ' You know our agreement. I will die 
alone, or I will kill others. Let us go.' 

" They did not interfere with him, and he went straight to 
the guillotine, turning the knife around in his bosom. ' I 
think,' said he to the executioner, ' that my soul must be fas- 
tened into my body ! I cannot die. Try and get it out for me.' 
A moment afterward his head fell. Whether by chance, or by 
some phenomenon peculiar to vitality, it bounded up and rolled 
away from the instrument of torture ; and they will still tell 
you at Bourg that the head of Hyvert spoke." 

I had not finished reading before I had decided to leave 
"Rene d'Argonne " for the "Companions of Jehn." The 
next day I came down with a satchel under my arm. 

"Are you going awayl" asked Alexandre. 

" Yes." 

" Where are you going 1 " 

" To Bourg, in Bresse." 

" What are you going to doV 

" Visit localities, and consult the memories of the peo- 
ple who saw Lepretre, Amiet, Guyon, and Hyvert 
executed." 

There are two roads to Bourg, coming from Paris. One 
can leave the railway at Macon and take the diligence 
which goes from Macon to Bourg, or one can go on as far as 
Lyons, and take the railway from there. I hesitated be- 
tween these two roads, and M^as decided by one of the 
travellers who happened to be in the same carriage with 
me. He was going to Bourg, where, as he told me, he had 
frequent business. He was going by way of Lyons, there- 



xxxviii 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



fore that was tlie better route. I resolved to do the 
same. 

I slept ill Lyons, and the next day at ten o'clock I was 
in Bourg. I found there a Lyons newspaper, containing 
a sarcastic article about me. Lyons has never pardoned 
me since in 1833, twenty-four years ago, I said that it 
was not literary; but, alas! at this date, 1857, I have the 
same opinion of Lyons that I had in 1833. I do not 
change my opinions easily. 

There is another cit}'- in France which has almost as 
much of a grudge against me as Lyons, and that is Rouen. 
Rouen has hissed all my pieces, even " Count Hermann." 
One day a Neapolitan boasted to me that he had hissed 
Rossini and Malibran in the " Barbier " and " Desdemona." 
I replied : " That must be true, for Rossini and Malibran 
have boasted of having been hissed by the Neapolitans." 
I boast, therefore, of having been hissed by the people of 
Rouen. 

However, one day when I had a native of Rouen with 
me, I resolved to find out why the}^ hissed me. I like to 
know all these little things. He replied : " We hissed 
you because we don't like you." Well, Rouen did not 
like Joan of Arc. However, it could not have been for 
the same motive. 

I asked the man of Rouen why he and his compatriots did 
not like me. I had never said anything bad about them ; 
I had respected M. Barbet all the time that he had 
been mayor; and when I had been sent as a delegate 
from the Society of Men of Letters at the inauguration 
of the statue of the great Corneille, I was the only one 
who had thought to bow before malting my speech. It 
seemed to me there was no reason at all why the people of 
Rouen should hate me. Therefore to the reply, "We 
hissed you because we don't like you," I humbly 
asked, — 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xxxix 



"And why do you not like me?'' 
"Oh, you know well enough," he replied. 
''IV I asked. 
"Yes, you.'' 

*' Never mind ; pretend I do not." 

" You remember the dinner which the town gave you 
at the time of Corneille's statue 1 " 

" Perfectly ; does it dislike me for not having paid 
for it 1 " 

"No, it is not that." 

" What is it 1 " 

" While at this dinner, they said to you : ' Monsieur 
Dumas, you ought to write a play for the city of Rouen, 
upon a subject taken from its history.' " 

"And I replied : 'Nothing more easy. I will come at 
your first summons, and stay a fortnight in Rouen. You 
will give me a subject, and during that fortnight I will 
write a play, the proceeds of which will be for the 
poor.' " 

"That is true, you said so." 

do not see any insult in that for tlie people of 
Rouen." 

" Oh/but they added : ' Will you do it in prose 1 ' To 
which you replied — do you remember what you replied ? " 
" No, indeed." 

" You replied : ' I will do it in verse. I can do it more 
quickly.' " 

"Very likely I did." 
"Well!" 
"What of it r' 

"It is an insult for Corneille, Monsieur Dumas. That 
ia why the people of Rouen do not like you, and have not 
liked you for a long time." 

Word for word ! O worthy people of Rouen ! I hope 



xl 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



you will never do me the ill turn to pardon and applaud 
me ! 

The " Journal " said that M. Dumas had stayed only 
one night in Lyons, doubtless because a place which 
cared so little for literature was not worthy of keeping 
him any longer. M. Dumas had not thought anything 
about it. He had stayed only one night in Lyons be- 
cause he was in a hurry to get to Bourg ; and when he 
arrived there he went straight to the " Journal " office of 
the department. He knew that it was directed by a dis- 
tinguished archeologist, the editor of the work by my 
friend Baux on the church of Brou. I sent for M. 
Milliet. He hastened to me. We shook hands, and I told 
him the object of my journey. 

" I can help you," he said to me. " I will take you 
to a magistrate here, who is writing the history of the 
province." 

" How far has he got ? " 

"As far as 1822." 

" That is all right, then ; as the events which I wish to 
relate date from 1799, and as my heroes were executed in 
1800, he will have gone past that date, and can give me 
my information. Let us come to jouv magistrate." 

On the way M. Milliet told me that this same magis- 
trate and historian was a connoisseur in wines. We 
were taken to his private office. I found him a man with 
a ruddy face and a cheerful smile. He welcomed me with 
that protecting air which historians reserve for poets. 

"Well, sir," he said, "so you are coming to look for a 
subject for a story in our poor country 1 " 

" No, sir ; my subject is already selected. I have only 
come to get historical facts." 

" Oh, I did not suppose romance writers needed to take 
so much trouble ! " 



A WOED TO THE READER. 



xli 



" You are wrong, sir, at least so far as I am concerned. 
I am in the habit of making serious researches when treat- 
ing of historical subjects." 

" You could have sent some one else." 

" Any one whom I could have sent, sir, would not have 
been penetrated with my subject, and might have over- 
looked important facts. Besides, I am aided very much 
by localities, and I cannot describe them without having 
seen them." 

" Then this is a story which you are going to write 
yourself? " 

" Eh 1 Yes, sir. I had the last one done by my valet ; 
but as it w^as very successful, the rogue asked such exor- 
bitant wages that to my great regret I was not able to 
keep him." 

The magistrate bit his lips ; then, after a moment of 
silence he said : " Be good enough to tell me, sir, in what 
way I can aid you in this important work." 

" You can direct my researches, sir. Having made a 
history of the department, none of the important facts 
which took place in its principal town can be unknown 
to you." 

" Well, sir, I think that in this particular instance I 
am very w^ell informed." 

" Well, to begin. Your department was the centre of 
the operations of the companions of Jehu." 

I have heard of the companions of Jesus," replied the 
magistrate, recovering his beaming smile. 

"You mean the Jesuits, do you not? That is not what 
I am looking for, sir." 

" Neither is it that of which I am speaking. I refer to 
those robbers of diligences who infested the roads from 
1797 to 1800." 

" Well, sir, permit me to say to you that those very 



xlii 



A WORD TO THE EEaDER. 



people are the ones for information of whom I have come 
to Bourg, and that they called themselves compaiiions of 
Jehu, and not companions of Jesus." 

•'■ But what does this title, ' Companions of Jehu/ mean ? 
I would like to understand it." 

" I like to understand things also. That is wlir I did 
not wish to confound the highway rohhers with the 
apostles." 

"That certainly would not have teen yery orthodox." 
That is what you, however, would have done, sir. if 
I, a poet, had not come to correct your judgment as a 
historian." 

"I am waiting for your explanaMcn, sir," said the 
magistrate, compressing his lips. 

It will be short and simple. Jehn was a king of 
Israel, consecrated by Elisha for the extermination of the 
House of Ahab. Elisha was Louis XYIIL, Jehu was 
Cadoudal, and the House of Ahab was the Revolntion. 
That is why the robbers of diligences who stole govern- 
ment money to carry on the war of la Vendee caUed 
themselves companions of Jehu." 

" Sir, I am happy to learn something at my age." 

" Oh, one is always learning at all times and all ages. 
During this life one learns men. and after death one learns 
God." 

'•'But," he returned, with a movement of impatience, 
" may I know in what way I can serve you ? '* 

la this way, sir. Four of these young men, the prin- 
cipal ones among the companions of Jehu, were executed 
at Bourg, on the Place du Bastion." 

"In the first place, sir, at Bourg they do not execute on 
the Place du Bastion : the executions take place in the 
Market Field." 

"Yes, within the last fifteen or twenty years that is 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xliii 



true ; but formerly, and particularly at the time of tbe 
Revolution, they took place as I have said." 
" It is possible." 

" It is true. These four young men were named Guyon, 
Lepretre, Amiet, and Hyvert." 

"That is the first time I ever heard those names." 

" They are, however, not without a certain renown, par- 
ticularly in Bourg." 

" And are you sure, sir, that these people were executed 
here 1 " 

" I am sure of it." 

" Where did you get your information 1 " 
"From a man whose uncle commanded the armed 
police, and was present at the execution." 
" Can you name this man 1 " 
Charles Nodier." 

What ! the romance writer, the poet 1 " 

" If he were a historian I should not be so sure of his 
facts, sir. I have lately learned, on a trip to Varennes, 
what to think of historians ; but just because he is a poet 
and a romance writer, I do not hesitate to believe him." 

" That is as you please ; but I do not as yet know what 
you desire to find out, and I dare say that if you came to 
Bourg only to get information about the execution of these 
gentlemen — what do you call them 1 " 

" Guyon, Lepretre, Amiet, and Hyvert." 

" — that you have had your trouble for nothing. For 
twenty years, sir, I have been compiling the archives of 
this town, and I have never seen such a thing mentioned." 

"The archives of the town are not those of the re- 
gistrar's office. Perhaps in these latter I can find what 
I seek." 

^' Ah, sir, if you find anything in the archives of the 
registrar's office you will be very keen. It is chaos, sir ! 



xliv 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



veritable chaos ! You will have to stay here a month, 
and then — " 

" I intend to stay here only one day, sir ; but if in that 
day I find what I want, will you permit me to share it 
with jonV 

" Yes, sir ! yes, sir ! yes ! And you will do me a 
great service.'^ 

" No greater than that which I have just asked of you. 
I will tell you something that you did not know, — 
that is all." 

You may imagine that when I came away from my 
magistrate's my pride was piqued, and I was determined 
at all costs to get some information about the companions 
of Jehu. I went again to Milliet. 

" Listen," he said ; I have a brother-in-law who is an 
advocate." 

" That is the man for me. Let us go to the brother-in- 
law." 

*' He is at the Palace now." 
. " Then let us go to the Palace." 

" Your presence there will be commented upon." 

" Then go there yourself, alone, and tell him what I 
want. Let him make his researches ; and I at the same 
time will go and look about the town and get an idea of 
the localities. We will meet at four o'clock, on the Place 
du Bastion, if you like." 

"Very well." 

" It seems to me that I saw a forest when I was on the 
way here." 

^•The forest of Seillon." 
" Bravo ! " 

*^ Do you need a forest 1 " 
" I must have one.'* 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xlv 



" Then allow me — " 
« What?" 

"I am going to take you to one of my friends, M. 
Leduc, a poet, who at odd moments is an inspector." 
" An inspector of what 1 " 
" Of the forest." 

" I suppose there are no ruins in the forest 1 " 
"There is the Chartreuse monastery, which is not in 
the forest, but which is only a hundred feet from it." 
" And in the forest 1 " 

"There is a sort of building called the Correrie, which 
belongs to the monastery, and which communicates with 
it by a subterranean passage." 

" Good ! Now if you could only offer me a cave, you 
would fill my cup to the brim." 

" We have the cave of Ceyzeriat, but it is on the other 
side of the Eeyssouse." 

" Never mind ; if the cave will not come to me, I, like 
Mahomet, must go to the cave. In the mean time, let us 
go and see M. Leduc." 

Five minutes afterward we were with M. Leduc, who, 
when he learned my errand, put himself and his horse 
and carriage at my disposal. I accepted them all. There 
are some men who offer things in such a way that they 
put you at ease at once. 

We visited the monastery first. If it had been built 
expressly for me, it could not have suited me better. The 
cloister was deserted and the garden gone to waste. 
Thanks, Chance ! From there we went to the Correrie. 
It was in the same condition as the monastery. I did not 
know yet what I should do with it, but it was evident that 
I could make it useful. 

"Now, sir," I said to my obliging guide, "I want a 
pretty situation, rather gloomy, under tall trees, near the 
river. Have you got such a thing around here '? " 



xlvi 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



" What do you want to do with it ? " 
" I want to build a chateau on it." 
" What chateau ] " 

" A castle in the air. I want a place to put a family, 
— a model mother, a melancholy young girl, a lively 
brother, and a poaching gardener." 

"We have a place called Noires Fontaines." 

" That is a charming name, to begin with." 

" But there is no chateau on it." 

" So much the better, for I should have been obliged to 
tear it down.'' 

"Would you like to go there?" 

We started, and a quarter of an hour afterwards we ar- 
rived at the guard-house. 

Let us take this little path," said M. Leduc to me. It 
will take us where you want to go." 

It did, in fact, conduct us to a place filled with tall 
trees, which shaded three or four springs. 

" This is what they call Xoires Fontaines," said M. 
Leduc to me. 

"This is the place where Mme. de Montrevel, Amelie, 
and little Edward will live. And now what are those 
villages over there ? " 

" The nearest one is Montagnac. Yonder in the moun- 
tain is Ceyzeriat." 

" Is that where the cave is?" 

"Yes. How did you know there was one?^" 

"Oh, I heard of it; and now give me the names of 
those other villages, if you please." 

" Saint-Just, Treconnas, Kamasse, and Yillereversure." 

" Yery well." 

" Is that enough ? " 

"Yes." 

I took out my memorandum book, made a plan of the 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xlvii 



localities, and wrote down as nearly as I could in tlieir 
proper places the names of the villages which M. Leduc 
had just told me. 

"That is done," I said. 

" Now where are we going 1 '* 

" Is the Church of Brou on our way 1 *' 

" Exactly." 

" Let us visit the Church of Brou." 

" Do you want that also in your story 1 " 

" Certainly. Do you suppose I would put the scene of 
my story in a country which possesses one of the most 
beautiful pieces of architecture of the sixteenth century 
without utilizing it 1 " 

" Then come to the Church of Brou." 

A quarter of an hour afterwards the sacristan opened for 
us this grand jewel-box, which contains the three marble 
jewels called the tombs of Marguerite of Austria, of Mar- 
guerite de Bourbon, and of Philibert le Beau. 

" How did it happen," I asked, " that all these master- 
pieces were not levelled with the dust at the time of the 
Kevolution 1 " 

"Ah, sir," replied the sacristan, "the government had 
an idea." 

" What was itV 

" It was to make the church a storehouse for fodder." 

"And so the hay saved the marble 1 You are right, 
my friend, — that was an idea." 

"Does that idea give you one?" asked M. Leduc. 

" Yes, indeed ; it will go hard with me if I cannot 
make something out of it." I drew out my watch. 
" Three o'clock ; let us go to the prison. I must meet 
M. Milliet at four o'clock, on the Place du Bastion." 

" Wait ! one more thing." 

" What is it ] " 



xlviii 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



" Have you seen the motto of Marguerite of Austria ] " 

" No ; where is it ] " 

" Here on her tomb." 

" ^ Fortune, infortune, fort'une ' ? " 

" Exactly." 

" Well, what does that play upon words mean 1 " 
" Learned men explain it thus : ' Destiny persecutes a 
woman.' '* 

" Let us see." 

" In the first place you must suppose the motto to have 
been Latin originally." 
" Yes, it probably was." 
" Well ; ' Fortuna infortunat ' — " 
"Oh, oh ! * infortunat'!" 
"WelU" 

" That looks like a barbarism.'' 
" What will you have 1 " 
" An explanation." 
" Give it.'' 

" Here it is : ' Fortuna, infortuna, forti una, — Fortune 
and misfortune are alike to the strong.' " 

" Do you know, that may possibly be the true transla- 
tion ! " 

"That is what comes of not being a scholar, my dear 
friend. With common-sense one can often see more cor- 
rectly than with science. You have nothing else to tell 
me ] " 

" No." 

" Then let us come to the prison." 

We got into the carriage again, went back to the city, 
and stopped at the prison door. I put my head out of 
the window. 

" Ah," I said, " they have spoiled it for me ! " 

" What ! they have spoiled it for you 1 " 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



xlix 



" Certainly ; it was not like this in the time of my 
prisoners. Can we speak to the jailer 1 " 
Certainly." 
" Let ns do so, then." 

We knocked at the gate, and a man about forty years 
old came and opened it for us. He recognized M. Lecluc. 

" My man," said M. Leduc, " here is one of my learned 
friends — " 

" Come, now," I said, interrupting him, " no poor jokes, 
if you please." 

" — who pretends," continued M. Leduc, "that the 
prison is no longer as it was in the last century." 

" That is true, M. Leduc. It was torn down and rebuilt 
in 1816." 

"Then the inside arrangements are not the samel" 
" Oh, no, sir ! everything has been changed ! " 
" Is there a plan of the old building 1 " 
Well, perhaps M. Martin, the architect, can find one 
for us." 

" Is he a relative of M. Martin the lawyer 1 " 
" He is his brother." 
" Very well ; then I will get my plan." 
" Then there is no need of staying here 1 " asked M. 
Leduc. 

" None at all." 

" I can go home again ^ " 

" Except for the sorrow of parting with you, there is 
nothing to prevent.^' 

" You can find your way to the Place du Bastion with- 
out me]" 

" Yes ; it is only a few steps from here." 
" What are you going to do with your evening 1 " 
" I will come and spend it with you, if you like." 
" Very well ! at nine o'clock a cup of tea will be wait- 
ing for you." 

VOL. I. — d 



I 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



" I will come and take it." 

I thanked M. Leduc, and we shook hands and parted. 
I went down through the Rue des Lisses (or Lices, mean- 
ing arena, because of a tournament which must have taken 
place on the square to which it leads), and going past the 
garden of Montburon I found myself at the Place du 
Bastion. It is a semi-circle, on which the town markets 
are held at the present day. In the midst of the circle 
rises the statue of Bichat by David (d'Angers), — Bichat 
in a frock coat (why this exaggeration of realism ? ), stand- 
ing with one hand on the heart of a naked child of nine 
or ten years (why this excess of idealism), while at Bichat's 
feet is extended a corpse. It is Bichat's book, " Life and 
Death," translated into bronze. 

I was looking at tlie statue, which contains both the 
excellences and the defects of David, when I felt some 
one touch me on the shoulder. It was M. Milliet. He 
held a paper in his hand. 

" Well 1 " I said. 
Well ? " 

" What have you there 1 " 

"The report of the execution." 

"Of whom 

" Of your men." 

"Of Guyon, Lepretre, Amiet, and Hyvert 1 " 
" Yes." 

" Give it to me." 

"Here it is." 

I took it and read : — 

OJicial Rejport of the Death and Execution of Laurent Guyon, 
Etienne Hyvert, Erangois Amiet, and Antoine Lepretre. 
Condemned on the 20th Thermidor, in the year VIII. y and 
executed on the 2dd Venderniaire, in the year IX. 

On this day, the 23d Vendemiaire, in the year IX., the gov- 
ernment commissioner at the tribunal, who received, at eleven 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



li 



o'clock in the evening, a packet from the minister of justice, 
containing the suit and judgment which condemned to death 
Laurent Guyon, Etienne Hyvert, Frangois Amiet, and Antoine 
Lepretre, — being the judgment of the Court of Appeal of the 
6th, which rejected the appeal against the judgment of the 21st 
Thermidor, in the year Vill., — gave notice, by letter, between 
seven and eight o'clock in the morning, to the four accused 
men that their death sentence would be executed to-day at 
eleven o'clock. 

In the interval before eleven o'clock these four men shot 
themselves with pistols and stabbed themselves with daggers, 
in the prison. Lepretre and Guyon, according to public re- 
port, were dead ; Hyvert mortally wounded and expiring ; 
and Amiet mortally wounded, but preserving consciousness. 
All four, in this state, were conducted to the guillotine, and 
dead or alive, were guillotined. 

At half-past eleven, officer Colin sent the report of their 
execution to the municipal records, to have it written upon the 
book of the dead. The captain of police sent to the justice of 
the peace the report of what passed in the prison, where he 
was present. 

I was not there, but I certify to what public report has told 
me. 

BouRG, 23d Vendemiaire, in the year IX. 

(Signed) 

DuBOST, Clerk. 

Ah, so the poet was more correct than the historian ! 
The captain of police, who sent to the justice of the 
peace the report of what had passed in prison, where he 
had been present, was Nodier's uncle. This report sent to 
the justice of the peace was the story which was engraved 
upon the mind of the young man, — a story which after 
forty years saw the light again, without alteration, in his 
masterpiece entitled " Souvenirs of the Eevolution." The 
whole account of the matter was in the archives of the 
registrar's office. M. Martin had offered to have it copied 



lii 



A WORD TO THE READER. 



for me. I had in my pocket Nodier's '^Souvenirs of 
the Revolution." I held in my hand the official report 
of the execution, which confirmed the facts advanced by 
him. 

" Xow let us go and see our magistrate," I said to M. 
Milliet. 

" Now let us go and see our magistrate," he repeated. 

The magistrate had not a word to say for himself ; and 
I left him convinced that poets knew history as well as 
historians, if not better. 

Alexandre Dumas. 



PEOLOGUE. 



THE CITY OF AVIGNON. 

WE are not sure that the prologue which we are 
about to submit to our readers is at all neces- 
sary, but we cannot resist the desire to make it the preface 
of this book. 

The further we advance in life and in art, the more 
convinced we become that nothing is abrupt and isolated ; 
that Nature and society are formed by natural causes and 
not by accidents ; and that the flower, whether bright or 
sad, perfumed or obnoxious, which opens to-day before 
our eyes, had its bud in the past and its root in days be- 
fore our own, as it will have its fruit in the future. When 
a man is young, he takes things as they come ; he is 
joyous, careless, unconcerned about what is coming next. 
Youth is the springtime of life, with its fresh mornings 
and beautiful evenings. If a storm sometimes passes 
over the sky, it bursts and vanishes, leaving the heavens 
bluer, the atmosphere purer, and Nature more smiling 
than before. What is the use of reflecting upon the cause 
of this storm, which is as swift as a caprice, as ephemeral 
as a fancy 1 Before we have guessed the meteorological 
enigma, the storm will have passed. But it is different 
witli those terrible phenomena which towards the end of 
summer menace our harvests, or in the middle of autumn 
beat down our vintage. One asks whence they came, 
where they are going ; one tries to foresee them. 



liv 



PROLOGUE. 



Now, for the tL inker, the historian, and the poet there 
is quite another subject for revery in revolutions, — those 
tempests of the social atmosphere which cover the earth 
with blood, and cut down a whole generation of men. 
The storms of Nature, while they beat down a harvest or 
shatter a vineyard, destroy the hope of only one year, 
which can be largely repaired in the next. 

Thus if in my youth I had had to relate the story 
Avhich I am going to tell you to-day, instead of stopping 
where the first scene of my book is to be laid, I should 
have passed over it carelessly. I should have crossed the 
South as if it had been a.Dy other province, and should 
have spoken of Avignon as of any other city. But it is 
not thus to-day. I live no more among the sudden storms 
of spring, but in the tempests of summer and autumn. 
To-day, when I speak of Avignon, I awake a spectre ; and 
as Antony, displaying Csesar's shroud, said : "Here is the 
rent which Casca's dagger made ; here is that made by 
the blade of Cassius ; and here the one made by the sword 
of Brutus," I say to myself, as I see the papal city, 
" Here is the blood of the Albigeois ; this is the blood of 
the Cevennois ; this the blood of the Eepublicans ; this 
the blood of the Royalists ; this the blood of Lescuyer, 
and this the blood of Marshal Brune." Thus I feel a 
deep sadness as I begin to write ; and with the first lines 
I discover that if T do not take care, the graver of the 
historian will replace in my fingers the pen of the romance 
writer. 

Well, let us be both. Eeader, grant the first fifteen or 
twenty pages to the historian. The romance writer will 
have the rest. 

Let us say, then, a few words of Avignon, the place 
where the first scene of this new book which we are offer- 
ing to the public is laid. Perhaps before reading what we 



PROLOGUE. 



Iv 



have to say, it would be well to look at what its national 
historian, Fran9ois ]!^ougeuir, remarks. " Avignon," he 
says, " is a city which is noble by reason of its antiquity, 
beautiful in its situation, superb on account of its walls, 
cheerful by reason of the fertility of its soil, charming in 
the gentleness of its inhabitants, magnificent for its 
palaces, beautiful on account of its wide streets, marvel- 
lous by reason of the construction of its bridge, rich on 
account of its commerce, and known through all the 
land." 

May the shadow of Frangois Nouguier pardon us, if we 
do not see his town with his eyes ! Those who have 
known Avignon can best judge which has seen it the 
more correctly, the historian or the romance writer. 

It must be confessed that Avignon is unique. It is a 
city of extreme passions. The religious dissensions which 
have brought political hatred upon its head date as far back 
as the twelfth century. The valleys of Mont Yentoux shel- 
tered, after his flight from Lyons, Pierre de Valdo and his 
Yaudois, — the ancestors of those Protestants who, under 
the name of Albigenses, took from the Counts of Toulouse 
and gave to the papacy the seven chateaux which Ray- 
mond YI. possessed in Languedoc. 

Avignon, a republic governed by podestates, refused to 
submit to the King of France. One morning Louis YIIL, 
who found it a more simple matter to go on a crusade 
against Avignon, as Simon de Montfort had done, than 
against Jerusalem, like Philip Augustus, — one morning, 
we say, Louis YIII. appeared before the gates of Avignon, 
demanding to enter with lances at rest, banners flying, 
and trumpets of war sounding. The citizens refused. As 
a final concession, they ofl'ered to permit a peaceable en- 
trance, with bared heads, lances raised, and the royal flag 
alone flying. The king began the siege. It lasted three 



Ivi 



PROLOGUE. 



months, during which, history says, the citizens of Avignon 
returned to the French soldiers arrow for arrow, wound 
for wound, and death for death. 

The city finally yielded. Louis YIII. had in his army 
the Roman cardinal-legate Saint-Ange ; it was he who 
dictated the conditions of the capitulation, and they were 
hard and absolute. The people of Avignon were compelled 
to tear down their ramparts, fill up their ditches, level 
with the ground three hundred towers, give up their ships, 
and burn their engines and machines of war. They were 
obliged, besides, to pay an enormous contribution, to 
abjure heresy, and to support in Palestine thirty men-at- 
arms, completely armed and equipped, to assist in the 
deliverance of the tomb of Christ ; and finally, to watch 
over the fulfilment of these conditions, of which the order 
still exists in the archives of the city, there was founded a 
brotlierhood of penitents, which, lasting for more than six 
centuries, has endured until our day. In addition to these 
penitents, who were called White Penitents, was founded 
the order of Black Penitents, filled with the spirit of 
opposition to Pvaymond de Toulouse. From that day, 
religious and political hatreds have been identical. 

It was not enough for Avignon to become a land of 
heresy ; it was to become also the theatre of schism. Per- 
haps we may be permitted, while we are speaking of 
French Piome, a short historical digression. To be sure, 
it is not necessary to the subject of which we are treating, 
and perhaps we should do better to enter at once upon 
our drama ; but we hope to be pardoned. TVe write above 
all for those who in a story like to find something else 
besides the story itself. 

In 1285 Philip le Bel mounted the throne. This date 
of 12 So is a supremely liistorical one. The papacy — 
which in the person of Gregory VII. opposed the Emperor 



PROLOGUE. 



Ivii 



of Germany, and which although conquered materially by 
Henry IV. overcame him morally — received a slap in the 
face from a simple Sabine gentleman, and the iron gauntlet 
of Colonna reddened the face of Boniface VIII. 

But what was the King of France, from w^hose hand 
the blow really came, about to gain under the successor 
of Boniface VIII. 1 This successor was Benoit XI., a man 
of low lineage, but who would perhaps have been a man 
of genius if he had been given time enough. Too weak 
to oppose Philip le Bel openly, he found a means which 
the founder of a celebrated order, two hundred years 
later, might have envied him. He pardoned Colonna 
publicly and aloud. To pardon Colonna was to de- 
clare him guilty, since the guilty alone need pardon. If 
Colonna were guilty, the King of France was at least his 
accomplice. 

There was more or less danger in sustaining such an 
argument, and Benoit XI. was Pope only eight months. 
One day a veiled woman, who called herself a lay sister of 
Sainte Petronille at Perouse, came while he was at table 
and presented him with a basket of figs. Was an asp 
concealed in it, as in that of Cleopatra 1 The fact remains 
that on the following day the holy seat was vacant. 

Then Philip le Bel had a strange idea, so strange that it 
almost amounted to an hallucination. It was to take the 
papacy from Rome and bring it to France, to imprison it 
there, and to make it coin money for his profit. 

The reign of Philip le Bel was the accession of gold. 
Gold was the sole god of this king who had insulted a 
Pope. Saint Louis had had for minister a priest, the 
worthy Abbe Suger ; but Philip le Bel had for ministers 
two bankers, — the Florentines Biscio and Musiato. 

Do you suspect, dear reader, that we are going to fall 
into the common philosophical plan which consists in 



Iviii 



PROLOGUE. 



anathematizing goldl You are mistaken. In the thir- 
teenth century gold was a method of progress. Until 
then, men had had only land. Gold is negotiable land, — 
land which is movable, exchangeable, transportable, divis- 
ible, spiritualized, as it were. 

It was necessary to draw the gold from the place where 
it was buried, — a very different place from the mines of 
Chili or Mexico. Gold was with the Jews, and in the 
churches. To take it from these mines, it needed more 
than a king, — it needed a Pope. And this is why Philip 
le Bel, the great coiner of gold, resolved to have a Pope of 
his own. 

Benoit XI. being dead, there was a council at Perouse ; 
and at this council the French cardinals were in the 
majority. Philip le Bel had his eyes upon the archbishop 
of Bordeaux, Bertrand de Got. He appointed a meeting 
with him in a forest, near Saint-Jean d'Angely. Bertrand 
de Got did not fail to keep the rendezvous. The king 
and the archbishop held Mass there : and at the moment 
of the elevation of the host, they swore absolute secrecy 
by the God they were glorifying. Bertrand de Got was, 
as yet, ignorant of the matter for which they had met. 
When the Mass was finished, Philip le Bel said, — 

" Archbishop, it is in my power to make you a Pope." 

Bertrand de Got listened no further, but throwing him- 
self at the king's feet, exclaimed, " What must I do 
for itr' 

" Grant me six favors," replied Philip le Bel. 
"It is for you to command, for me to obey," said tho 
future Pope. 

Thus the oath of bondage was taken. The king raised 
Bertrand de Got, kissed him upon the mouth, and said to 
him : — 

" The six favors which I ask of you are as follows : 



PROLOGUE. 



lix 



1. That you will reconcile me perfectly with the Church, 
and that you will grant me pardon for the crime that I 
committed concerning Boniface VIII. 2. That you will 
restore to me and mine the communion which the court of 
Rome took away from me. 3. That you will grant me 
the tithes of the clergy in my kingdom for five years, in 
order to help with the expenses of the Flemish war. 
4. That you will destroy and annul the memory of Boni- 
face VIII. 5. That you will confer the dignity of car- 
dinal upon Jacopo and Pietro de Colonna. The sixth 
favor I reserve until I can speak of it at another time 
and place." 

Bertrand de Got took oath both for the known and the 
unknown favors. Tlie unknown one, of which the king 
had not dared to speak, was the destruction of the 
Templars. 

Besides the promise and the oath taken upon the Corpus 
Domini, Bertrand de Got gave as hostage his brother and 
two of his nephews. The king, for his part, swore that 
he would have him elected Pope. 

This scene took place in a clearing in the forest, in tlie 
midst of the shadows, and more nearly resembled the 
conjuring of a demon by a magician than an agreement 
between a king and a Pope. 

The coronation of the king, which took place at Lyons 
a short time afterwards, and which was the beginning of 
the captivity of the Church, must have fallen under the 
displeasure of God. At the moment when the royal pro- 
cession was passing, a wall loaded with spectators fell 
down, wounding the king, and killing the Due de Bre- 
tagne. The Pope was knocked down, and his tiara rolled 
in the mud. 

Bertrand de Got was elected Pope, under the title of 
Clement Y. Clement V. did all that Bertrand de Got had 



Ix 



PEOLOGUE. 



promised. Philip was declared innocent ; the communion 
Avas restored to him and his ; the purple was thrown over 
the shoulders of the Colonnas ; the Church was obliged to 
pay for the wars in Flanders and the crusade of Philip 
(le Yalois against the Grecian empire; the memory of 
Boniface YIII. was, if not destroyed and annulled, at 
least dishonored ; the walls of the Temple were rebuilt, 
and the Templars were burned upon the platform of 
the new bridge. All these edicts were dated from 
Avignon. 

Philip le Bel w^as the richest of all the kings of the 
French monarchy. He had an inexhaustible treasure in 
his Pope : he hnd bought him, and he used him. He put 
him under pressure ; and as pressure causes cider to run, 
so did gold run from the crushed Pope. The papacy, 
insulted by Colonna in the person of Boniface VIII., 
abdicated the empire of the world in that of Clement Y. 

Y"e have told how the reigns of the king of blood and 
the pope of gold began. It is well known how they 
ended. Clement Y. went first. He had seen his palace 
burned in a dream. " From that moment," says Baluze, 

he became sad, and did not last long." Seven months 
afterwards it was Philip's turn. He died while hunting, 
overthrown by a wild boar. 

The uproarious Louis X., surnamed the Headstrong, 
succeeded his father Philip le Bel, and John XXII. fol- 
lowed Clement Y. 

Avignon then became a second Eome, and John XX IT. 
and Clement YI. consecrated it Queen of Luxury. The 
manners of the times made it the Queen of Debauchery. 
In place of its towers, which were levelled by Romain de 
Saint-Ange, Hernandez de Heredi, the grand master of 
Saint John of Jerusalem, built around it a girdle of 
walls. It had dissolute monks, who indulged in de- 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixi 



baiicliery and luxury ; it had its beautiful courtesans, 
who tore the diamonds from the tiara to make bracelets 
and necklaces for themselves ; and it had the echoes of 
Vaucluse, which sent to it the sweet and melodious songs 
of Petrarch. 

This lasted until the time of King Charles V., who was a 
wise and religious prince, and who, having resolved to put 
a stop to the scandal, sent Marshal de Boucicaut to drive 
from Avignon the anti-pope Benoit XIII. But at sight of 
the soldiers of the French king the Pope remembered that 
before he had been Benoit XIIT. he had been Captain 
Pierre de Luna. For hve months he carried on tlie de- 
fence, taking aim himself from the walls of the castle, 
with his machines of war, which hurled another kind of 
thunderbolt from his pontifical edicts. At last, forced to 
fly, he went out of the city through a postern, after hav- 
ing ruined a hundred houses and killed four thousand 
people of Avignon. He took refuge in Spain, where the 
King of Arragon offered him an asylum. There, every 
morning, from the top of a tower, assisted by two priests 
whom he had associated with him, he blessed the world 
(which was none the better for it) and excommunicated 
his enemies (who were none the worse for it). At last, 
feeling himself about to die, and fearing lest schism should 
die with him, he named his two priests cardinals, — the 
condition being that when he was gone, one of the two 
should elect the other Pope. 

The election was made. The new Pope followed schism 
for a little while, sustained by the cardinal who had 
elected him. Finally they both entered into a negotia- 
tion with Rome, made their apologies, and returned to 
help their Mother Cliiirch, — one with the title of Arch- 
bishop of Seville, the other with that of Arclibishop of 
Toledo. 



Ixii 



PROLOGUE. 



From that time nntil 1790, Avignon, bereaved of its 
Popes, had been governed by legates and vice-legates. It 
had had seven sovereign pontiffs, who had resided within 
its walls for seventy years. It had seven hospitals, 
seven brotherhoods of penitents, seven convents for men, 
seven convents for women, seven parishes, and seven 
cemeteries. 

For those who knew Avignon, there were at this time 
two cities, — the one a city of priests, the Eoman city ; 
the other a city of merchants, the French city. The city 
of priests had its palaces, its Popes, its hundred churches, 
its innumerable bells, always ready to sound the tocsin 
for political broils or the knell for murder. The city 
of the merchants had its Phone, its silk-workmen, and its 
cross-roads, which w^ent from north to south, from east 
to west, from Lyons to Marseilles, from Kismes to 
Turin. 

The French city was desirous of having a king, jealous 
of its liberties, and trembling with anger at feeling itself 
an enslaved land ; a land of priests, with clergy for its 
lords, — a clergy who were not a pious clergy, austerely 
tolerant to duty and charity, living in the world to con- 
sole and edify it, without mingling either in its joys or its 
j^assions ; but a clergy such as intrigue, ambition, and 
cupidity had made it, — abbes of the court, rivals of 
Eoman abbes, idle, libertine, elegant, bold, kings of the 
world, autocrats of the salon, kissing the hand of ladies 
of doubtful reputation who honored them with their 
friendship. Will you have a type of these abbes ? Take 
the Abbe Maury, — proud as a duke, insolent as a lackey, 
the son of a shoemaker, more aristocratic than the son of 
a great lord. 

These two classes of inhabitants represented heresy and 
orthodoxy. One was the French party, and the other the 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixiii 



Roman ; one the party of absolute monarchy, the other 
the progressive constitutional party. The two did not 
tend to bring elements of peace and security into the old 
pontifical city. It can be easily understood, therefore, 
that when the Eevolution broke out in Paris, and man- 
ifested itself in the taking of the Bastile, the two parties, 
still excited by the religious wars of Louis XIV., did not 
remain quiet. Avignon was a city of priests, and it was 
also a city of hatreds. There is no better place than a 
convent in which to learn hate. The heart of a child, else- 
where pure and free from bad passions, is born there full 
of paternal hates, bequeathed from father to son for eight 
hundred years, which, after a life of hate, descend in turn 
to the next generation. 

Thus at the first cry of liberty which France uttered, 
the French city rose in joy and hope ; the moment had 
come for it to contest aloud the concession made by a 
young minor queen — to redeem her sins — of a city, a 
province, and with it half a million souls. By what right 
had these souls been sold in oeternum to the hardest and 
most exacting of all masters, — a Roman pontiff "? There 
was to be a gathering on the Champ de Mars in the fra- 
ternal embrace of the Federation. Was not Avignon 
France? Deputies were appointed, who went to the 
legate and respectfully begged for permission to depart. 
They gave them twenty-four hours in which to leave the 
city. 

During the night the papists amused themselves by 
hanging in effigy a mannikin wearing the tri-colored 
cockade. The course of the Rhone can be directed ; a 
canal can be made for the durance ; ditches can be dug 
for the raging torrents which come when the snow melts, 
precipitating liquid avalanches from the summit of Mont 
Ventoux, — but God himself has never yet attempted to 



Ixiv 



PROLOGUE. 



arrest this terrible living flood, this human torrent, which 
bounded over the rapid slopes of the streets of Avignon. 
At sight of the mannikin bearing the national colors and 
swinging at the end of a rope, the French city rose from 
its depths, uttering cries of rage. Four papists who were 
suspected of the sacrilege, two marquises, a citizen, and 
a workman were torn from their houses and hung in 
place of the effigy. This was on the 11th of June, 
1790. 

The French city as a body wrote to the National Assem- 
bly that it gave itself to France, together with its Rhone, 
its commerce, and its South, comprising half of Provence. 
The National Assembly had reached one of its periods of 
reaction, in which it did not care to quarrel with the 
Pope, and temporized with the king : it adjourned the 
affair. From that time Avignon was in revolt, and the 
Pope could do with it what the court could have done with 
Paris after the taking of the Eastile, if the Assembly had 
adjourned the proclamation of the rights of man. The 
Pope sent forth the order to annul all that had been done 
in the Comtat Venaissin, to re-establish the privileges of 
the nobles and clergy, and to bring back the Inquisition 
in all its severity. 

The pontifical decrees were posted up about the city. 
One man alone, in open day, in the sight of all, dared to 
go straight to the wall where the decrees were posted, and 
tear them off. He was named Lescuyer. He was not 
young, and therefore he was not carried away by the fires 
of youth. No, he was almost an old man, who was not 
even in his native city ; he was a Frenchman from Picardy, 
ardent and thoughtful at the same time ; he had been a 
notary, and had been established at Avignon for a long 
time. 

Then came a crime which Roman Avignon still remem- 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixv 



bers, — a crime so great that the Virgin wept. For you 
must know that Avignon is Italy. It must have miracles 
at any price ; and if God does not create them, some one 
is sure to invent them. And the credit of the miracle 
must belong to the Virgin. The Virgin is everything in 
Italy, that land of poetry. All the mind, heart, and lan- 
guage of the Italians is full of the word " Madonna." It 
was in the Church of the Cordeliers that this miracle took 
place. The crowd hastened there. 

It was much that the Virgin should weep ; but in the 
mean time a report gained ground which put the climax 
to their emotions. A tightly shut chest had been carried 
through the city, and it had excited the curiosity of the 
inhabitants. What could it contain? Two hours later 
report had it that not one but eighteen chests had been 
seen on their way to the Ehone. As for the objects which 
they contained, a porter revealed the secret : they were 
the contents of the mont-de-piete^ or national pawn-shop, 
which the French party were carrying with them on their 
way into exile. The contents of the mont-de-piete were 
spoils taken from the poor. The more miserable is a city 
the richer is its mont-de-piete ; and few of them were 
richer than that of Avignon. 

This was no longer a matter of opinions ; it was a theft, 
an infamous theft. Whites and Reds ran to the Church of 
the Cordeliers, crying that the city should answer to them 
for it. Lescuyer was the municipal secretary. His name 
was tossed to the crowed, not as having torn down the pon- 
tifical decrees, — for he would have found plenty to de- 
fend that act, — but as having signed the order to the 
custodian of the mont-de-piete to allow the property to be 
removed. 

They sent three men to take Lescuyer and bring him to 
the church. They found him in the street, on his way to 
VOL. I. — e 



Ixvi 



PROLOGUE. 



the municipality. The men fell upon him and dragged 
him into the church -vrith ferocious cries. When they 
reached it, instead of being in the house of the Lord, 
Lescuyer understood, by the flaming eyes fixed upon 
him, by the fists shaken at him in menace, and by the 
cries which demanded his death, that he was in one of 
those circles of hell unnamed by Dante. His only idea 
was that all this rage was on account of the mutilation of 
the pontifical decrees ; he got up in the pulpit, and with 
the Yoice of a man who not only does not reproach him- 
self for anything, but who is even ready to do the same 
thing again, he said : — 

" My brothers, I have believed the Revolution to be a 
necessity ; I have therefore done all in my power — " 

The fanatics reahzed that if Lescuyer explained, he was 
saved. This was not at all what they desired, and they 
threw themselves upon him, tore him from the pulpit, and 
pushed him into the midst of the howling mob, who 
dragged him towards the altar, uttering that terrible cry 
between the hiss of the serpent and the roar of the tiger, 
— that murderous Zou-zou f peculiar to the population of 
Avignon. 

Lescuyer knew that fatal cry : he tried to take refuge 
at the foot of the altar. He fell there, but he did not 
find it a refuge. A workman armed with a club had just 
hit him such a terrible blow on the head that the club 
broke in two. Then they threw themselves upon his poor 
body, and with that mingling of ferocity and gayety pe- 
culiar to the people of the South, the men began to sing 
and dance upon him, while the women, to punish him 
for his blasphemies against the Pope, cut his lips into 
fringes with their scissors. And then from the midst of 
the group came a hoarse cry, — 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixvii 



In the name of Heaven ! in the name of the Virgin ! 
in the name of humanity ! kill me at once ! " 

The cry was heard, and with one accord the assassins 
scattered. They left the wretch, bleeding, disfigured, and 
broken, to endure his agony. It lasted for five hours, 
during which, amid bursts of laughter, insults, and mock- 
ings from the crowd, the poor body lay palpitating upon 
the steps of the altar. 

That is how they kill in Avignon. But, stop ! they 
have still another fashion. 

It occurred to some one to go to the mont-de-piete and 
find out the truth. Everything was in its place j not 
a thing had been removed. Thus it was not as an accom- 
plice in a theft that Lescuyer had been so cruelly assas- 
sinated, but as a patriot. 

There was at this time one man in Avignon who ruled 
the people. All these terrible leaders of the South have 
acquired such a fatal celebrity that it is only necessary to 
name them for each one to be recognized. The man of 
whom we speak was Jourdan. He was a braggart and a 
liar, and he had made the lower class of the people be- 
lieve that he had cut the throat of the governor of the 
Bastile; therefore he was called Jourdan Cut-throat. His 
real name was Mathieu Jouve. He was not a native of 
Provence, but was from Puy-en-Velay. He had been origi- 
nally a muleteer on the steep hills surrounding his native 
town ; then a soldier, who had never seen war, and whom 
war would have made more human ; and finally an inn- 
keeper in Paris. At Avignon he dealt in madder. 

Jourdan assembled three hundred men, seized the gates 
of the city, left half of his troops there, and with the 
rest marched upon the Church of the Cordeliers, preceded 
by two pieces of cannon. He drew them up before the 
church, and fired without taking any particular aim. The 



Ixviii 



PEOLOGUE. 



assassins scattered like a flight of friglitened birds, leaving 
a few dead upon the stejps of the church. Jourdan and 
his men picked their way among the corpses and entered 
the holy place. No one was there except the Virgin, and 
the unfortunate Lescuyer, who was still alive. Jourdan 
and his comrades took good care not to finish Lescuyer ; 
his agony would be a supreme means of exciting the peo- 
ple. They took what remained of him, for he was al- 
most dead, and carried him away, bleeding, panting, and 
uttering hoarse cries. Every one fled from the sight, 
shutting doors and windows. 

At the end of an hour, Jourdan and his three hundred 
men were masters of the town. Lescuyer was dead, but 
that did not matter ; they had no further need of his 
sufferings. 

Jourdan profited by the terror wliich he inspired, and 
arrested, or caused to be airested, eighty-four persons as 
assassins of Lescuyer. Thirty or more of them had not 
even set foot in the church ; but when one finds a good 
occasion for getting rid of one's enemies, one should profit 
by it, for good occasions are scarce. These eighty per- 
sons were thrust all together into the Trouillas tower. It 
was the scene of Inquisitional tortures. To this day can 
be seen, along the walls, the thick soot which rose with 
the smoke of the wood that consumed human flesh ; to 
this day they will show you the appliances of torture 
which have been carefully preserved, — the copper kettle, 
the .oven, the wooden horse, the chains, the oubliettes, and 
even the old bones ; nothing is wanting. 

It was in . this tower, built by Clement V., that they 
shut up the eighty prisoners. When they had once taken 
them and shut them up, they did not know what else to 
do with them. Who would judge them 1 There was no 
legal tribunal except the tribunal of the Pope. Should 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixix 



they kill the wretches as they had killed Lesciiyer 1 As 
we have said, there were a third, and perhaps a half of 
them, who had not only taken no part in tlie assassination, 
but who had not even put their foot into the church. 
Kill them ! it would go to the account of reprisals. But 
in order to kill eighty persons, a number of executioners 
were required. 

A kind of tribunal improvised by Jourdan sat in one 
of the halls of the palace ; it had a clerk named Raphael, 
a president half Italian and half French, an orator in the 
popular dialect named Barbe Savournin de la Eoua ; be- 
sides these there were three or four poor devils, — a baker, 
a charcoal-burner, — the names are lost in the greatness of 
the occasion. Those were the people who cried, *'We 
must kill them all ! if any are left alive, they will bear 
witness against us ! " 

As we have said, however, there were not enough men 
to do the killing. There were scarcely twenty men in the 
court, all belonging to the lower class, — a wig-maker, a 
shoemaker, a cobbler, a mason, a carpenter, — all poorly 
armed, with weapons taken up by chance ; one with a 
sword, another with a bayonet ; that one with a bar of 
iron, this one with a wooden club hardened in the fire. 
All these persons were sliivering in a cold October rain. 
It was difficult to make assassins of them. 

Nothing, however, is difficult to the Devil. There are, 
in these matters, times when it seems as if God turned 
away his face. Then it is the Devil's turn. He entered in 
person into the cold and dripping court. He had the ap- 
pearance, form, and face of an apothecary of the country, 
named Mendes ; he set up a table lighted by two lanterns; 
upon it he placed glasses, jugs, pitchers, and bottles. What 
was the infernal beverage enclosed in these vessels 1 No 
one could tell, but the effect was well known. All those 



Ixx 



PROLOGUE. 



who drank of the diabolical liquor suddenly felt a raging 
fever, a desire for murder and blood. From that time 
they needed only to be shown the door, and they found 
their way into the cells. 

The massacre lasted all night ; all night long the cries, 
the wailings, and the death-rattle were heard in the shad- 
ows. They cut every one's throat, men and Avomen alike ; 
it took a long time, for the executioners, as we have said, 
were drunk and badly armed. However, they reached 
the end at last. 

Among those who killed, a child was conspicuous by 
reason of his bestial cruelty, his immoderate thirst for 
blood. He was Lescuyer's son. He killed, and killed 
again ; he boasted of having Avith his own childish hand 
killed ten men and four women. " I can kill as many as 
I please," he said ; " I am not yet fifteen years old, and 
they can do nothing to me." 

As fast as they killed they threw dead and wounded, 
corpses and living bodies, into the Trouillas tower ; they 
fell from a height of sixty feet. The men were thrown 
first, and then the women. 

At nine o'clock in the morning, after twelve hours 
of this massacre, a voice cried from the depths of this 
sepulchre : For God's sake, come and finish me ! I can- 
not die ! " 

A man, the armorer Bouffier, went down into the hole 
and looked about ; the others did not dare. 
" Who cried out ] " they asked him. 
"Lami," replied Bouffier. 

Then, when he was in the midst of them once more, 
they asked him : " Well, what did you see down there 

" A queer kind of marmalade," he replied ; " all pell- 
mell, men and women, priests and pretty girls ; it was 
enough to make one split one's sides with laughing." 



PROLOGUE. 



Ixxi 



"Man is certainly a wicked wretch," said the Count of 
Moute Cristo to M. de Villefort. 

Well, it is in this city, still bleeding, warm, and excited 
with these last massacres, that we are about to introduce 
the two principal characters of our stoiy. 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER I. 

A TABLE d'hote. 

On the 9th of October, in the year 1799, on one of those 
beautiful southern autumn days which, at the two ex- 
tremities of Provence, ripen the oranges of Hyeres and 
the grapes of St.-Peray, an open carriage drawn by three 
post-horses crossed at full speed the bridge over the Dur- 
ance, between Cavailhon and Chateau-Renard. It was 
going in the direction of Avignon, the ancient papal city 
which a decree of the 25th of May, 1791, had, eight years 
before, reunited to France, — a union which had been con- 
firmed by the treaty signed, in 1797, at Tolentino between 
General Bonaparte and Pope Pius VI. 

The carriage entered by the A.ix gate, crossed, without 
slackening speed, the length of the city, whose narrow and 
winding streets were protected against wind and sun alike, 
and stopped a short distance from the gate of Oulle, at the 
Hotel of the Palais-Egalite, which was just beginning 
to be called again the Hotel of the Palais-Royal, the 
name which it had formerly borne, and which it bears 
to this day. 

VOL. I. — 1 



2 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



These few words concerning the title of the hotel indi- 
cate sufficiently well the state of France under that gov- 
ernment of Thermidorian reaction which was called the 
Directory. After the Eevolution, which lasted from the 
14th of July, 1789, to the Ninth Thermidor, 1794; after 
the days of the 5th and 6th of October, the 21st of June, 
the 10th of August, the 2d and 3d of September, the 21st 
of May, the Twenty-ninth Thermidor, and the First Prairial ; 
after having watched the fall of the heads of the king and 
his judges, of the queen and her accuser, of the Girondins 
and the Cordeliers, of the Moderates and the Jacobins, 
France had experienced that most frightful and nauseating 
of all forms of lassitude, — a surfeit of blood. She came out 
from it, if not with a need for royalt}'', at least with a de- 
sire for a strong government, in which she could put her 
confidence, upon which she could lean, which would act 
for her, and would permit her to seek repose while it bore 
the responsibility. 

Instead of this vaguely desired government, there was 
the feeble and irresolute Directory, composed just then of 
the voluptuous Barras, the intriguing Sieyes, the brave 
Moulins, the insignificant Eoger Ducos, and the honest 
but rather too naive Gohier. The result of this was a 
mediocre dignity without, and a doubtful peace within. 

It is true that at the time of which we are speaking, the 
French armies, so glorious during the epic campaigns of 
1796 and 1797, although momentarily thrown back to- 
wards France by the incapacity of Scherer at Yerona and 
Cassano, and by the defeat and death of Joubert at Novi, 
had again assumed the offensive. Moreau had beaten 
Souvaroff at Bassignano ; Brune had conquered the Duke 
of York and General Hermann at Bergen ; Massena had 
annihilated the Austro-Russians at Zurich, — Korsakof 
had escaped with great difficulty, and the Austrian Hotz 



A TABLE d'hote. 



3 



and three other generals had been killed, while five had 
been taken prisoners. Massena had saved France at Zurich, 
as ninety years before Villars had saved it at Denain. 

But in the interior, affairs were not in such good con- 
dition, and the directoral government was embarrassed be- 
tween the war of la Vendee and the brigandages of the 
South, to which the population of Avignon were no stran- 
gers. The two travellers who descended from the post- 
chaise had good reason to fear the state of mind in which 
they might find the always agitated population of the 
papal city ; for, a little beyond Orgon, at a place where 
three roads met, — one going to Nismes, a second to Car- 
pentras, and a third to Avignon, — the postilion had 
stopped his horses, and turning around, had asked, — 

" Will the citizens go by the way of Avignon or 
Carpentras 1 " 

" Which is the shorter of the two routes 1 " one of the 
two travellers had demanded, in a quick, sonorous voice. 
Although he was evidently considerably older than his 
companion, yet he himself had scarcely seen his thirtieth 
year. 

^' Oh, the road to Avignon, citizen, is at least a good 
league and a half shorter." 

" Then," was the reply, let us go by way of 
Avignon." 

And the carriage had started on again at a pace that 
announced that the citizens, as the postilion called them, 
although the appellation of " monsieur " was again coming 
into use, paid at least thirty sous for guides. 

The same desire to lose no time was manifested at the 
entrance to the hotel. There, as on the road, it was the 
older of the two travellers who was spokesman. He asked 
if they could have dinner immediately, and the form of 
the question indicated that he was willing to overlook 



4 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



many gastronomic requirements, proYided the repast was 
promptly served. 

" Citizen/' replied the landlord, who, at the sound of 
the carriage, had run, napkin in hand, to meet the trav- 
ellers, " you will be quickly and suitably served in your 
own room ; but if I might be allowed to give you a little 
advice — " 

He hesitated. 

"Oh, give it ! give it ! " said the younger of the two 
travellers, speaking for the first time. 

" Well, it would be simply, to dine at the talle cfhote, 
as the traveller who is going away in this other carriage is 
doing at this very moment ; the dinner is excellent, and 
ready served." 

The landlord, as he spoke, indicated a carriage fitted 
with every convenience, to which were harnessed two 
horses who were pawing the ground restlessly, while the 
postilion was allaying his impatience by emptying a bottle 
of Cahors wine, as he sat on the window-ledge. 

The first impulse of the one to whom the offer had been 
made was to decline it ; however, after a moment's re- 
flection the elder of the two travellers, as if he had re- 
pented of his decision, made a questioning sign to his 
companion. The latter replied with a look which signi- 
fied, "You know very well that T am at your command." 

" Well, then, let it be so," said he who seemed to be 
appointed to take the initiative ; " we will dine at the 
tahle d''hdtey Turning to the postilion, who, hat in hand, 
was awaiting his orders, he said, " In half an hour, at the 
latest, have the horses ready." 

Then, at a sign from the landlord, the two entered 
the dining-room, the elder walking first and the other 
following. 

- One knows the impression which new-comers generally 



A TABLE D'h6tE. 



5 



produce at a table d^hbte. All eyes were turned towards the 
arrivals, and the conversation, which had been animated, 
was interrupted. 

The company consisted of the habitues of the hotel, of 
the traveller whose carriage was waiting at the door, of a 
wine-merchant of Bordeaux, the cause of whose moment- 
ary sojourn at Avignon we shall learn later, and of several 
travellers returning from Marseilles to Lyons by diligence. 

The new-comers saluted the company by a slight inclin- 
ation of the head, and placed themselves at the extremity 
of the table, leaving three or four places between them- 
selves and the other guests. This aristocratic reserve re- 
doubled the curiosity of which they were the object ; and 
there was a general impression that they were people of 
undoubted distinction, although their garments were of the 
utmost simplicity. Both wore the boot-tops over small- 
clothes, the long-skirted coat, the travelling cloak, and the 
broad-brimmed hat which formed the costume of all young 
men of that epoch ; but that which distinguished them 
from the fashionables of Paris, and even of the provinces, 
was their long, straight hair, and the black neck-cloth 
which they wore close about the neck, like soldiers. The 
fops, as the fashionable young men of the day were 
called, wore their hair puffed upon the temples and turned 
back into a chignon behind the head, and an immense 
cravat with long, floating ends, in which the chin was 
lost. Some even carried the reaction so far as to use 
powder. 

As for the faces of the two young men, they offered 
completely opposite types. The elder of the two — he who 
had several times already taken the initiative, and whose 
voice, even in familiar conversation, denoted the habit of 
command — was, as we have said, a man of about thirty 
years, with black hair parted in the middle and falling long 



6 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



and straight, from the temples to the shoulders. He had 
the tanned complexion of a man who has travelled in 
southern countries, thin lips/ straight nose, white teeth, 
and the falcon eyes that Dante gives to Caesar. He was 
short rather than tall ; his hands were delicate, and his feet 
slender and elegant ; there was in his manner a certain 
awkwardness, which indicated that he wore at the moment 
a costume to which he was not accustomed ; and when 
he spoke, if he had been upon the banks of the Loire in- 
stead of on the borders of the Ehone, it would have been 
remarked that there was in his pronunciation a certain 
Italian accent. 

His companion appeared to be three or four years 
younger. He was a handsome young man with a rosy 
complexion, blond hair, clear blue eyes, a firm, straight 
nose, and a pronounced but almost beardless chin. He 
might have been two inches taller than the other; and 
although above the average height, he was so well 
proportioned and so admirably free in all his movements, 
that it was plainly to be seen that he was, if not of a 
strength, at least of an agility and address, far from 
common. 

Although they were clad in the same manner, and were 
apparently upon an equal footing, the younger seemed to 
feel for the elder a remarkable deference, which, since 
it could not proceed from a disparity in age, must have 
been caused by an inferiority in social condition. Fur- 
thermore, he called his companion " citizen," while the 
other styled him simply Roland. 

These remarks, which we have made in order the 
better to initiate the reader into our story, were probably 
not pursued to their full length b}^ the guests at the 
table d^hote ; for, after giving their attention to the new- 
comers for a brief space of time, they ceased to scruti- 



A TABLE d'hote. 



7 



nize them, and the interrupted conversation resumed its 
course. It certainly bore upon a subject of the utmost 
interest to travellers ; it concerned the stopping of a dil- 
igence loaded with the sum of sixty thousand francs be- 
longing to the government. The detention had taken 
place on the previous day, upon the road from Marseilles 
to Avignon, between Lambesc and Pont-Royal. 

At the first words that were uttered upon the subject, 
the two young men listened with unmistakable interest. 
The incident had taken place upon the very road which 
they had just traversed, and the person who was relating 
it had been one of the principal actors in the scene. It 
was the wine-merchant of Bordeaux. 

Those who appeared to be most eager for details were 
the passengers of the diligence which had just arrived 
and was about to start again. The other guests — those 
who belonged to the locality — appeared to be sufficiently 
familiar w4th this sort of catastrophe to be able to give 
details themselves, instead of receiving them. 

" And so, citizen," said a fat man, against whom a tall, 
thin, withered woman was pressing close in terror, " you 
say it was upon the very road over which we have just 
passed that the theft was committed 1 " 

"Yes, citizen, between Lambesc and Pont-Royal. Did 
you notice a place where the road ascends, and is shut in 
between tw^o hillocks'? There are a great many rocks 
just there." 

" Yes, yes, dear," said the woman, pressing her hus- 
band's arm ; " I noticed it. I even said to you, if you 
remember, ' This is a bad place, and I would rather pass 
through it in the daytime than at night.' " 

" Oh, Madame ! " said a young man who affected the 
lisping speech of the period, and w^hoj on ordinary occa- 
sions, appeared to rule the conversation of the iahle d'hote, 



8 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



you know that for Messieurs the ' companions of Jehu ' 
there is neither night nor day." 

" How, citizen 1 " demanded the woman, still more 
terrified, " were they stopped in full daylight 1 " 

"In full daylight, citizenessj at ten o'clock in the 
morning." 

" And how many of them were there '? " asked the fat 
man. 

" Four, citizen." 

" In amhush along the road 1 " 

" No j they came up on horseback, armed to the teeth, 
and masked." 

" That is their custom," observed the young hahitue of 
the table d'hote ; "they said, did they not, ^Do not defend 
yourselves ; no harm will be done you ; we only want the 
government money.' " 

"Word for word, citizen." 

" Then," continued the one who seemed to be so well 
informed, " two of them dismounted, threw the bridles of 
their horses to their companions, and summoned the 
driver to give the money to them." 

" Citizen," said the fat man, in amazement, "you relate 
the thing as if you had seen it." 

" Perhaps Monsieur was there," suggested one of the 
travellers, in a tone half joking, half suspicious. 

" I am not sure, citizen, whether, in saying that, you 
intended to be impolite to me," carelessly remarked the 
young man who had just come so effectively to the aid of 
the narrator; "but my political opinions forbid me to 
regard your suspicion as an insult. If I had had the 
misfortune to be of the number of those who were 
molested, or the honor of being one of those who at- 
tacked, I should tell of it with as much readiness in 
the one case as in the other; but yesterday morning at 



A TABLE D'HOTE. 



9 



ten o'clock, at the very moment when the diligence was 
stopped four leagues from here, I was tranquilly break- 
fasting at this very place, and with these same two 
citizens who at this moment are doing me the honor of 
sitting at my right and left." 

"And," asked the younger of the two travellers who 
had just taken their places at the table, the one whom his 
companion designated by the name of Roland, "how 
many of you were there in the diligence 1 " 

" Wait a moment ; I believe there were — yes, that 's 
right — there were seven men and three women." 

"Seven men not counting the driver?" repeated 
Roland. 

"Yes." 

"And with seven men you allowed yourselves to be 
plundered by four bandits ? Accept my compliments, 
gentlemen." 

" We knew with whom we had to do," replied the wine- 
merchant ; "and we were not inclined to defend our- 
selves." 

" What ! " rejoined the young man ; " with whom you 
had to dol But you had to do, it seems to me, with 
thieves, bandits ! " 

"Not at all ; they gave their name." 

" Their name 1 " 

" They said, ' Gentlemen, it is useless to defend your- 
selves ; ladies, do not be frightened ; we are not brigands, 
— we are companions of Jehu.' " 

"Yes," said the young man of the table d^hofe, "they 
give notice, so there shall be no mistake. They always 
do it." 

" Ah," said Roland, " and who then is this Jehu who 
has such polite companions'? Is he their captain?" 
" Sir," said a man whose costume made him look like 



10 THE COMPANIOXS OF JEHU. 

a secularized priest, and who appeared to be not onl}^ an 
hahitue of the table d^hote, but to be also initiated into 
the mysteries of the honorable body whose merits were 
being discussed, "if you were better versed than you 
appear to be in the reading of Holy Writ, you would 
know that it is something hke two thousand six hundred 
years since Jehu died, and that, consequently, he is 
not at present in a situation to be stopping diligences on 
the high-road." 

" Monsieur I'Abbe," rejoined E-oland, who bad recog- 
nized an ecclesiastic, as, in spite of the acrimonious tone 
in which you speak, you appear to be well instructed, will 
you permit an ignoramus to ask of you some details con- 
cerning this Jehu who has been dead two thousand six 
hundred years, but who, nevertheless, has the honor of 
possessing companions who bear his name ? " 

Jehu," rephed the churchman, in the same sharp tone, 
" was a king of Israel, consecrated by Elisha, upon condi- 
tion that he would punish the crimes of the house of 
Ahab and Jezebel, and put to death all the priests of 
Baal." 

"Monsieur I'Abbe," replied the young man, laughing, 
'^I am much obliged to you for your explanation. 
I have no doubt it is very exact, and above all very 
learned ; but I must confess it does not teach me much." 

" What, citizen ! " said the other, " you do not under- 
stand that Jehu is His Majesty Louis XYIII., consecrated 
upon condition of punishing the crimes of the Revolution 
and of putting to death the priests of Baal, which is to 
say, all those who have taken any part whatever in this 
abominable state of things which for the last seTen years 
they have called the Bepubhc % " 

"Oh," said the- young man, "now I comprehend. 
But," he continued, "among those whom the compan- 



A TABLE D'HOTE. 



11 



ions of Jehu are sworn to attack, do you reckon the 
brave soldiers who have repulsed the enemy from the 
frontiers of France, and the illustrious generals who have 
commanded the armies of Tyrol, Sambre-et-Meuse, and 
Italy 1 " 

" Certainly ; those first and foremost." 

The eyes of the young man flashed lightning ; his nos- 
trils dilated, his lips were compressed ; he rose from his 
chair ; but his companion caught him by the coat and 
made him sit down again, while with a look he imposed 
silence upon him. Then the one who had just given 
such proof of his power, spoke for the first time. 

" Citizen," said he, addressing the young man of the 
table d'hote, " pardon two travellers who have come from 
the ends of the earth, as they say of America and India ; 
who left France two years ago ; who are completely 
ignorant of what is going on, and who desire to be 
instructed." 

" That is very natural," replied the one to whom these 
words were addressed. " Ask your questions, and we 
will answer." 

" Well," continued the dark young man with the eagle 
eye and the straight black hair, " now that I know who 
Jehu is, and for what end his companions are banded 
together, I would like to know what they do with the 
money they take." 

" Oh, that 's very simple, citizen ; you know that there is 
great talk of a restoration of the Bourbon monarchy?" 

" ¥o, I did not know it," said the dark young man, in 
a tone which he vahily endeavored to render naiVe. " I 
have come, as I told you, from the ends of the earth." 

" What ! you did n't know that 1 Well, in six months 
it will be an accomplished fact." 

''Indeed ! " 



12 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" It is just as I tell 3^011, citizen." 

The two young men of military appearance exchanged 
a look and a smile, although the younger appeared to be 
laboring under intense impatience. Their companion 
continued, — 

" Lyons is the headquarters of the conspiracy, if that can 
be called a conspiracy which is organized openly ; the name 
of 'provisional government' would be a better one." 

"Ah, well, citizen," said the dark young man, with a 
politeness which was not entirely free from sarcasm, let 
us say ' provisional government.' " 

" This provisional government has its staff and its 
armies." 

" Bah ! Its staff, perhaps ; but its armies — " 
" Its armies, I repeat." 
"Where are they? " 

" One of them is organized in the mountains of Au- 
vergne under the orders of M. de Chardon ; another in 
the Jura mountains under the command of M. Teysson- 
net ; and a third is located, and very pleasantly just now, 
in la Vendee, under the orders of Escarboville, Achille 
Leblond, and Cadoudal." 

Upon my word, citizen, you do me a great service in 
telling me all this news. I believed the Bourbons to be 
completely resigned to exile ; I believed that there existed 
neither a royalist provisional committee in the cities, nor 
bandits on the high-roads ; and finall}^, I believed la 
Vendee to be completely pacified b}^ General Hoche." 

The young man to whom this reply was addressed 
laughed aloud. " Where did you come from ? " he asked. 
" Where did you come from ? " 

" I told you, citizen, — from the ends of the earth." 

" That is easily seen." Then, continuing : " Well, you 
understand," he said, " the Bourbons are not rich ; the 



A TABLE D'HOTE. 



13 



emigrants, whose property has been confiscated, are 
ruined ; it is impossible to organize two armies, and keep 
together a third, without money. They were embarrassed ; 
there was only the Eepublic which could pay its enemies. 
Now it was not probable that it would do this willingly ; 
and, therefore, without trying tlie issue, it was decided 
that the shorter way would be to take the money rather 
than ask for it." 

" Ah, now I understand." 

" The companions of Jehu are the agents between the 
Republic and the revolutionists, — • the tax-gatherers for 
the royalist generals." 

" Yes ; it is not a theft, it is a military operation, — 
one deed of arms against another." 

" Exactly, citizen ; you have it : and now you know as 
much about it as we do." 

"But,'^ timidly interpolated the wine- merchant from 
Bordeaux, " if Messieurs the companions of Jehu — you 
will notice that I do not speak ill of them — if Messieurs 
the companions of Jehu only want government money — " 

" Government money, and no other ; they have never 
taken from a private individual." 

" Never 1" 

" Never." 

" How does it happen, then, that yesterday, with the 
government money, they carried off two hundred louis 
which belonged to meV 

" My dear sir," replied the young man of the table d'hote, 
*'I have already told you that there was some mistake 
about that ; and as sure as my name is Alfred de Barjols, 
that money will be returned to you some day." 

The wine-merchant sighed, and shook his head with the 
manner of one who, in spite of assurances, still retains 
some doubt. But at this moment, as if the declaration 



14 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



of the yonng man (who had just revealed his social con- 
dition by giving his name) had awakened the delicacy 
of those whose good faith he had guaranteed, a horse 
stopped at the door, steps were heard in the corridor, the 
door of the dining-room opened, and a man masked, and 
armed to the teeth, stood upon the threshold. 

" Gentlemen," said he, breaking the profound silence 
caused by his appearance, " is there among you a traveller 
named Jean Picot, who was yesterday in the diligence 
which was stopped betw^een Lambesc and Pont-Eoyal 1 " 

"Yes," said the wine-merchant, in amazement. 

" Is it you ? " asked the masked man. 

" It is L" 

" Was anything taken from you 1 " 

" Yes, indeed ; they took from me two hundred louis, 
which I had confided to the care of the driver." 

" And I may add," observed the young noble, " that 
Monsieur was speaking of them at this very moment, and 
thinking of them as lost." 

" Monsieur was WTong," said the masked unknown ; 
" we make war upon the government, not upon private 
individuals ; we are partisans, not thieves. Here are your 
two hundred louis. Monsieur, and if such an error occurs 
in future, claim your property and mention the name of 
Morgan.'-' 

With these words the masked man deposited a bag of 
gold at the wine-merchant's right hand, bowed courte- 
ously to the company at the table, and went out, leaving 
some terrified, and others stunned at the thought of such 
boldness. 



AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 



15 



CHAPTER II. 

AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 

But these two sentiments did not manifest themselves in 
an equal degree among all the members of the company. 
The points of difference were graduated according to the 
age, the sex, the character, and even the social position of 
the guests. 

The wine-merchant, Jean Picot, the one most interested 
in the scene which had just taken place, had recognized at 
a glance the costume, the arms, and the mask of one of 
the men who had attacked him on the previous day, and 
had at first been struck speechless with terror ; then, as he 
had gradually comprehended the motive for the mysterious 
bandit's visit, he had by degrees passed from fright to joy. 
His bag of gold was near him, but he seemed afraid to 
touch it ; perhaps he feared to see it vanish at his touch, 
like gold which we seem to find in dreams, and which dis= 
appears even before we open our eyes. 

The fat gentleman of the diligence and his wife, as well 
as the other travellers by that conveyance, had betrayed 
unaffected and absolute terror. Placed at the left of Jean 
Picot, the fat man, when he had seen the bandit approach- 
ing the wine-merchant, had, in the vain hope of maintain- 
ing an honest distance between himself and the companion 
of Jehu, drawn back his chair against that of his wife, 
who, yielding to the pressure, had tried to draw back in her 
turn. But as the chair which came next belonged to the 
citizen Alfred de Barjols, who had no reason to fear men 



16 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



of whom he had just expressed such a high opinion, the 
chair of the fat man's Avife had found an obstacle in the 
immohility of that of the young noble ; so that, as hap- 
pened eight or nine months later at Marengo, when the 
general-in-chief judged that it was time to resume the 
offensive, the retreat stopped. 

As for the latter, — we are speaking of Alfred de Barjols, 
— he, like the abbe who had given the biblical explanation 
concerning Jehu, King of Israel, and the mission which he 
had received from Elisha, looked like a man who not only feels 
no fear, but who even feels no surprise at events, no mat- 
ter how unexjDected they may be. There was a smile upon 
his lips, as he closely watched the masked man ; and if all 
the guests had not been so preoccupied with the two prin- 
cipal actors in the drama, they might have detected an 
almost imperceptible but significant glance which was ex- 
changed between the bandit and the young noble, — a signal 
which was instantly reproduced between the young noble 
and the abbe. 

For their part, the two travellers who had last entered 
the dining-room, and who sat b}^ themselves at the extrem- 
ity of the table, had followed the instincts of their differ- 
ent characters. The younger of the two had instinctively 
carried his hand to his side, as if in search of an absent 
weapon, and had risen as if with the intention of throw- 
ing himself at the throat of the masked man, which would 
undoubtedly have happened if he had been alone ; but the 
elder, he who appeared to have the authority as well as the 
habit of giving orders, contented himself, as on a former 
occasion, with seizing hold of his coat, and saying peremp- 
torily and almost sternly, " Sit down, Roland ! " And 
the young man obeyed. 

But the one who remained, in appearance at least, the 
most imperturbable of all, was a man thirty three or four 



AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 



17 



years of age, with light hair, a reddish beard, a calm and 
beautiful face, large blue eyes, a clear complexion, delicate 
and intelligent lips, a tall figure, and a foreign accent 
which betrayed him, as far as could be judged from the 
few words which escaped liini, to be a native of England. 
But in spite of this accent, he spoke the French language 
with extraordinary purity. At the first word which he 
had pronounced, and in which he had revealed his nation- 
ality, the elder of the two travellers had started, and, 
turning towards his companion, who was evidently accus- 
tomed to reading his thoughts in his face, he seemed to 
ask him why an Englishman should be found in France at 
a time when the bloody war between the two nations 
naturally exiled the English from France, as well as the 
French from England. Apparently Roland had no expla- 
nation to offer, for he replied with a glance and a shrug 
which signified, "It appears as extraordinary to me as to 
you ; but if you, the prince of mathematicians, cannot 
solve the problem, you must not expect me to." 

It was at least clear to the minds of the two young men 
that the blond man with the English accent was the trav- 
eller whose comfortable carriage was in waiting at the door 
of the hotel, and that he was from London, or at least 
from some one of the counties of Great Britain. As for 
the words which he uttered, they were, as we have said, 
exceedingly rare ; so rare that they were in reality more 
like exclamations than words. At each question which 
he had asked concerning the state of France, the English- 
man had drawn a note-book from his pocket, and begging 
the wine-merchant, the abbe, or the young noble to repeat 
his explanation, — which each one had done with a polite- 
ness equal to the courtesy which had prompted the de- 
mand, — he had made a note of anything important, 
extraordinary, or picturesque concerning the stopping of 

VOL. I. — 2 



18 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



the diligence, the state of la Vendee, and the companions 
of Jehu, returning thanks ea^^h time with voice and gest- 
ure, with that reserve familiar to our neighbors across the 
water, and each time replacing in the side pocket of his 
coat the newly enriched note-book. Finally, like one who 
enjoys an unexpected entertainment, he uttered an ex- 
clamation of satisfaction at the entrance of the masked 
man, listened with all his ears, and looked with all his 
eyes, and did not once lose sight of him until the door 
had closed behind him ; then quickly drawing his note- 
hook from his pocket, he said to his neighbor, who was no 
other than the abbe, — 

" Oh, Monsieur, will you have the kindness, if I do not 
remember it all correctly, to repeat for me, word for word, 
what was said by the gentleman who has just gone out 1 " 

He began to write immediately, and with the aid of the 
abbe's memory he soon had the satisfaction of transcribing 
literally the words of the companion of Jehu. AYhen this 
was accomplished, he exclaimed, with an accent which put 
a strange seal of originality to his words, — 

" Oh, how true it is that such things can happen in 
France alone ! France is the most extraordinary country 
in the world. It is a delight to me, gentlemen, to travel 
in France and to become acquainted with the French." 

And the last phrase was said with so much courtesy and 
seriousness, that there was nothing for it but to thank the 
speaker, even though he were the descendant of the con- 
querors of Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt. It was the 
younger of the two travellers who replied to this civility, 
iu the tone of caustic indifference which appeared to be 
natural to him, — 

" Upon my word, that is my case exactly, my lord. I 
say ' my lord,' because I take it for granted that you are 
English." 



AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 



19 



"Yes, sir/' replied the gentleman, " I have that honor." 

"Well, as I was saying," resumed the young man, "it 
is a great pleasure to me to travel in France, and to see 
what I have seen there. It is only under the government 
of citizens Gohier, Moulins, Roger Ducos, Sieyes, and Bar- 
ras that such things could happen ; and when, fifty years 
from now, some one will tell how, in the midst of a city 
of thirty thousand inhabitants, in broad daylight, a high- 
wayman, with a mask on his face and two pistols and a 
sabre at his belt, came and brought back to a merchant, 
who was in despair at having lost them, the two hundred 
louis of which he had robbed him on the preceding day • 
when he will add that this took place at a table d'hote at 
which twenty-five persons were sitting, and that this 
model bandit was allowed by these twenty-five persons to 
depart in peace, — I will wager that the one who told such 
a story as that would be called an infamous liar." 

And the young man burst out laughing, but so harshly 
and nervously, that every one looked at him in astonish- 
ment, and his companion fixed his eyes upon him with an 
almost fatherly anxiety. 

"Monsieur," said Alfred de Barjols, who, like all the 
others, appeared to be impressed by the strange burst of 
laughter, which was more full of sorrow than mirth, and 
which he 'allowed to sink into silence before he spoke, 
" permit me to observe that the man whom you have just 
seen is not a highwayman." 

" Bah ! what else is he ^ " 

"He is, in all probability, a young man of as good 
family as yours or mine." 

" Count Horn, who was broken on the wheel in the 
Place de Greve, was also a young man of good family. In 
proof of it, all the nobility of Paris sent carriages to 
his execution." 



20 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Count Horn had, if I remember correctly, assassinated 
a Jew in order to steal from him a bill of exchange which 
he could not pay ; but nobody will dare to tell you that a 
companion of Jehu has ever hurt so much as one hair of 
an infant's head." 

" Well, granted ; we will admit that the society is 
founded upon philanthropic principles, — to re-establish the 
balance of fortunes, to remedy the caprices of chance^ and 
reform the abuses of society. Although he may be a 
robber after the fashion of Karl Moor, your friend Mor- 
gan — was not that the name by which this honest citizen 
called himself?" 

"Yes," replied the Englishman. 

" Well, your friend Morgan is none the less a robber." 

Alfred de Barjols became as pale as death. "The citi- 
zen Morgan is not my friend," replied the young aristocrat; 
" but if he were, I should be honored by his friendship." 

" No doubt of it," replied Roland, laughing. " As Vol- 
taire says, ' The friendship of a great man is a gift of the 
gods.' " 

" Eoland, Roland ! " said his companion, in a low voice. 

" Oh, General," returned the other, allowing, perhaps 
designedly, his companion's proper title to escape him, 
" permit me, I beg of you, to continue with this gentle- 
man a discussion which is so intensely interesting to me." 

The other onlj shrugged his shoulders. 

" But, citizen," continued the young man, with strange 
persistence, " I am still in the dark. I left France two 
years ago, and since that time so many things have 
changed, — costume, manners, accent, — that it is only 
reasonable to suppose that the language itself may have 
changed also. What is the word which you would apply 
in this modern language to the stopping of diligences and 
the taking of money which they carry 1 " 



AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 



21 



"Monsieur," replied the young man, in the tone of one 
who is resolved to sustain his opinion to the end, " I call 
it making war ; and your companion, whom you just 
called general, will, in his character of soldier, tell you 
that aside from the pleasure of killing and being killed, 
generals have always done exactly what Citizen Morgan 
is doing now." 

" What ! " cried the young man, " do you dare to 
compare — " 

" Let the gentleman develop his theory, Roland," said 
the dark traveller, whose eyes, contrary to those of his 
companion, which seemed to dilate and shoot forth flames, 
were veiled beneath their long black lashes, in order to 
conceal what was passing within. 

"Ah," said the young man, with his staccato accent, 
" you are beginning to be interested in the discussion 
yourself." Then turning to the one whom he seemed to 
have singled out : " Continue, sir, continue," he said ; 
" the general permits it." 

The young noble blushed as intensely as he had paled 
a moment before, and with his elbows on the table, and 
his chin in his hands, to bring himself as near as possible 
to his adversary, he continued, with a provincial accent 
which grew more marked as he became excited : — 

" Since the general permits it," emphasizing the words 
" the general," " I shall have the honor of telling him, and 
you also. Monsieur, that I think I remember having read 
in Plutarch that when Alexander took his departure for 
India he carried with him only eighteen or twenty talents 
in gold, which amounts to a hundred or a hundred and 
twenty francs. Now, do you suppose that it was with 
these eighteen or twenty talents that he nourished his 
army, won the battle of Granicus, conquered Asia Mi- 
nor, overthrew Tyre, Gaza, Syria, Egypt, built Alexan- 



22 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



dria, penetrated into Lybia, caused the oracle of Ammon 
to declare him to be the son of Jupiter, penetrated as far 
as Hy phase, and, as his soldiers refused to follow him 
any fartlier, returned to Babylon, to surpass in luxury, 
in dissipation, and in effeminacy the most debauched 
and voluptuous of the kings of Asia ] Did he get his 
money in Macedonia ; and do you think that King Philip, 
one of the poorest of the kings of poor Greece, would 
honor his son's drafts 1 No ; Alexander did as the Citizen 
Morgan has done ; only, instead of stopping diligences 
upon the high-road, he pillaged cities, put kings to ransom, 
and levied contributions upon the conquered countries. 

" And there is Hannibal. You know, do you not, how 
he left Carthage 1 He had not even the eighteen or twenty 
talents of his predecessor Alexander ; nevertheless, as he 
needed money, he took and sacked, in a time of peace, and 
in violation of his treaties, the town of Sagonte; from 
that moment he was rich, and could proceed with his 
campaigns. If you will pardon me, I will pass from 
Plutarch to Cornelius Kepos. I will spare you his descent 
of the Pyrenees, his ascent of the Alps, the three battles 
which he won, distributing each time the treasures of the 
vanquished ; and I come to the five or six years which he 
passed in the Campagna. Do you suppose that he and 
his army paid taxes to the Capuans, and that the 
bankers of Carthage, who were at war with him, supplied 
him with funds 1 Xo ; war nourished war, according to 
the system of the Citizen Morgan. 

" And now for Caesar. Ah, Cjesar is quite another 
thing ! He left Spain, in debt to the amount of some- 
thing like thirty millions. He went back again almost 
clear. Then he left for Gaul, where he stayed with our 
ancestors for ten years. During those ten years he sent 
more than a hundred millions to Eome, recrossed the 



AN ITALIAN PBOVERB. 



23 



Alps, passed tlie Rubicon, marched straight to the Capi- 
tol, forced the doors of the temple of Saturn, where the 
treasure was kept, took enough for his own needs, and 
not for those of the Republic ; and finally he — the man 
who twenty years before was scarcely allowed by his 
creditors to leave his little house in the Rue Suburra — 
died, leaving two or tliree thousand sesterces for each 
citizen, ten or twelve millions to Calpurnia, and thirty or 
forty millions to Octavius. This is precisely the system 
which Morgan employs ; except that Morgan, I am sure, 
would die before he would touch either the silver of the 
Gauls or the gold of the Capitol. 

" And now let us pass over eighteen hundred years, and 
come to General Buonaparte — " 

And the young aristocrat, as was the fashion among 
the enemies of the conqueror of Italy, affected to lay 
stress upon the ii which Bonaparte had dropped from his 
name, and upon the e from which he had removed the 
acute accent. This affectation appeared to irritate Roland 
exceedingly, and he made a movement as if to spring 
forward ; but his companion checked him. 

Never mind, Roland, never mind," he said. " I am 
sure that the Citizen Barjols is not going to say that 
General Buonaparte, as he calls him, is a thief." 

" No, / will not say it ; but there is an Italian proverb 
which says it for me.'^ 

" Let us hear the proverb," said the general, taking his 
companion's place in the dialogue, and this time fixing 
upon the young noble his clear, calm, and unfathomable 
eyes. 

" Here it is in all its simplicity : Francesci non sono 
tutti ladroni, maa buon parte, which means, ' All French- 
men are not thieves, but — ' " 

" A good part of them," said Roland. 



24 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Yes, — Buonaparte," replied Alfred de Barjols. 

Scarcely had the insolent' word left the mouth of the 
young aristocrat, before the plate which Eoland was 
fingering flew from his hands and struck the other full in 
the face. 

The women cried out, and the men sprang to their 
feet. Roland burst out laughing in the nervous way 
which was habitual to him, and sank back upon his 
chair. The young aristocrat remained motionless, al- 
though a rivulet of blood trickled from his eyebrow down 
over his cheek. 

At this moment the conductor entered, saying, in his 
accustomed formula, " Come, citizen travellers, the car- 
riage is ready ! " 

The travellers, in haste to leave the scene of the alter- 
cation which they had just witnessed, hurried towards 
the door. 

" Pardon, Monsieur," said Alfred de Barjols to Roland, 
" you do not go by diligence, I hope ] " 

" No, Monsieur, I have a post chaise. But you need 
have no uneasiness ; I shall not go." 

" Nor I," said the Englishman. " Let them unharness 
the horses ; I shall stay." 

" I shall have to go," said the dark young man, with a 
sigh. " You know that I must, my friend, and that my 
presence is absolutely necessary yonder. But I swear to 
you that I should not leave you thus if I could do other- 
wise." And as he said these words, his voice betrayed 
an emotion of which its ordinarily firm and metallic tones 
did not seem capable. 

On the contrary, Roland appeared overjoyed. It was 
as if his warlike nature blossomed out at the approach of 
the danger which, if he had not actually courted, he had 
certainly not sought to evade. Very well, General," 



AN ITALIAN PEOVERB. 



25 



he said ; " we should in any case be obHged to part at 
Lyons, since you have had the kindness to grant me a 
month's leave in order to go to Bourg, to my family. It 
is only sixty leagues the less that we shall travel to- 
gether, that is all. I will see you again at Paris. But 
remember, if you need some one who is devoted to you, 
think of me." 

" Make your mind easy, Roland," said the general. 
Then, looking attentively at the two adversaries : " Above 
all, Koland," he said to his companion, in a tone of inex- 
pressible tenderness, " don't get killed ; and if it is a 
possible thing, don't kill your opponent, either. That is 
a fine young man, and I would like some day to have all 
such on my side." 

" I will do my best. General." 

Just then the host appeared at the door. " The post- 
chaise for Paris is ready," he said. 

The general took up his hat and cane from a chair ; 
but Roland chose to accompany him bareheaded, so that 
all might see that he was not going with him. Alfred de 
Barjols made no objection to his exit. It was easy for 
him to see that his adversary was of the kind who court 
quarrels, rather than evade them. 

Roland accompanied the general to the carriage, which 
he entered, 

"All the same," said the latter, seating himself, ^'it 
makes my heart ache, Roland, to leave you here, without 
a friend to act as your second." 

Don't make yourself uneasy about that, General ; 
there are always plenty of seconds. There are, and always 
will be, people who are curious to see how one man kills 
another." 

" Au revoir, Roland. i>rotice that I say au revoir^ and 
not adieu." 



26 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Yes, my dear General," replied the young man, in a 
softened voice, " I hear it, and I thank you." 

"Promise to send me word as soon as the affair is 
over, or to get some one to write for you if you are not 
able to do it yourself." 

"Oh, never fear, General; in less than four days you 
shall have a letter from me/' replied Roland. Then he 
added bitterly : " Have you not seen already that there is 
a fatality about me which will not let me diel " 

" Roland ! said the general, severely, " again 1" 

"Oh, it is nothing, nothing!" said the young man, 
shaking his head, and affecting an expression of careless 
gayety, which must have been habitual to him before he 
had met with the unknown misfortune which apparently 
made him court death, although still so young. 

"Well, by the way, try to find out one thing." 

"What is that, GeneraU" 

" How it happens that while we are at war with Eng- 
land, an Englishman is travelling tlirough Erance as freely 
and unconcernedly as if he were at home." 

" Good ! I will find out." 

" HowT' 

" I don't know yet ; but if I say I will find out, I 
will, even if I have to ask himself." 

" Reckless fellow ! Don't get involved in another 
quarrel on this account." 

" At all events, if it came to that, since he is an enemy, 
it would be a fight rather than a duel." 

" Well, once more au revoir, and embrace me." 

Roland threw himself with a movement of passionate 
gratitude upon the neck of tlie man who had just given 
him this permission. 

" Oh, General," he cried, " how happy I should be — 
if I were not so wretched ! " 



AN ITALIAN PROVERB. 



27 



The general looked at him affectionately. " Some day 
you will tell me your trouble, will you not, Ronald 1 " 
he said. 

Roland burst into the miserable laugh which had two 
or three times before escaped his lips. " Oh, no, indeed ! " 
he said. "You would laugh at me." 

The general looked at him as if he thought him crazy. 
"Ah, well," he said, ''we must take people as we find 
tliem." 

" Particularly when they are not what they appear 
to be." 

'' You mistake me for (Edipus, and you read me rid- 
dles, Roland." 

" Ah, if you guess this one, Genera], I will salute you 
king of Thebes. But I am forgetting that every moment 
is precious to you, and that I am keeping you here 
uselessly." 

" You are right. Have you any commissions for Paris 1 " 

" Three, — my love to Bourrienne, my respects to your 
brother Lucien, and my tenderest homage to Mme. 
Bonaparte." 

" It shall be as you desire." 

" AYhere shall I find you again in Paris 1 " 
In my house in the Rue Victoire, or perhaps — " 

" Perhaps — " 

" Who knows 1 perhaps at Luxembourg ! " Then 
throwing himself back, as if he regretted having said so 
much, even to his best friend, he called to the postilion : 
" The road to Orange, and as fast as possible." 

Thfe postilion, who was only waiting for tlie order, 
whipped his horses ; the carriage started with a roll like 
thunder, and disappeared through the gate of Guile. 



28 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTEK III. 

THE ENGLISHMAN. 

EoLAND remained motionless, not only until the carriage 
had disappeared, but for a long time afterwards. Then 
shaking his head, as if to scatter from his forehead the 
cloud which darkened it, he re-entered the hotel and asked 
for a room. 

Take Monsieur to No. 3," said the landlord to a 
chambermaid . 

The chambermaid took a key from a large tablet of black 
wood, on which some white numbers were arranged in two 
lines, and made a sign to the young traveller to follow 
her. 

'^Send me up some paper, pens, and ink," said the 
young man to the landlord ; and if M. Earjols asks ^ 
where I am, give him the number of my room." 

The landlord promised to attend to Roland's wishes, and 
he followed the girl, whistling the Marseillaise. Five 
minutes afterwards he was seated at his table, with the 
wdshed-for pen, ink, and paper before him. But he had 
not traced a line before some one knocked three times at 
his door. 

" Come in," he said, wheeling his chair around in order 
to face his visitor, whom he supposed to be either M. de 
Barjols or one of his friends. 

The door opened with a machine-like regularity, and 
the Englishman appeared upon the threshold. 

" Ah," cried Eoland, delighted with the visit, because 
of what the general had said to him, " is it you ? " 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



29 



"Yes," said the Englishman, ^'it is I." 
" You are welcome." 

*' Oh, I am glad if I am welcome. I did not know 
whether I ought to come." 
''Why notr' 
"Because of Aboukir." 

Eoland laughed. " There were two battles of Abou- 
kir," he said, — " one that we lost, and one that we 
won." 

" I mean because of the one that you lost." 

" Oh," said Eoland, " men fight, and kill each other, 
and are exterminated on the field of battle ; but that is 
no reason why we should not shake hands on neutral 
ground. I repeat, therefore, you are welcome, particularly 
if you will tell me why you have come." 

" Thanks ; but first read this." The Englishman drew 
a paper from his pocket. 

^^What is thisT' asked Eoland. 

" My passport." 

"What have I to do with your passport?" asked 
Eoland. " I am not a gendarme." 

" No ; but as I have come to ofi'er you my services, per- 
haps you would not accept them if you did not know 
who I was." 

" Your services 1 " 

" Yes ; but read." 

Eoland read : — 

In the name of the French Eepublic, the Executive Direc- 
tory desires that Sir John Tanlay be allowed to travel freely 
throughout the extent of the territory of the Eepublic, and that 
he receive protection and aid in case of need. 

(Signed) Fouche. 

And lower : 



30 THE C0MPAXI0X3 OF jZZU. 

I particnlarlT Teeoinmend that Sir Jobn Tanlay receive all 
privileges, : - _i" il:!: ^is": and a Mend of liberty. 



«YoTiliavereaditl* 
Oh, jes, I have read it ; what then! " 

"Oh, what then! Well, my Mher, Lord Tanlay, per- 
formed certain services for M. Barcas, and that is why 
M. Barras permits me to travel through France ; and I 
am very glad to do it, for I find it very entertaining." 

" Oh, I remember. Sir John ; I heard yon say as mnch 
at the table." 

"Yes, I did say it: ani I il^: siii : I —as very fond 
of the French." 
Boland bowed. 

"And, above all, of _ I rrarte^" continned Sir 

John. 

"Yon are fond of - 1 I - -.parte I" 
"I admire Li— . _ : -rery great man.** 

"Upon my i i-. > r 7 :: I ini sorry that he cannot 
hear an Englis -n: ;i s ~ 1: : him." 

«Oh,if he ^r- hri. I - 1^ :: rsayit." 
Why not ] 

" I wonld not like to have him think that I said it to 
please him. I say it because I think so." 

" I do not donbt it, my lord," replied Boland, who did 
not know what object the Englishman had in view, and 
who, having learned nom the passport all that he wished 
to know, suddenly became reserved. 

"And when I saw," continned the Eng^hman, with the 
same gravity, " that yon took the general's part, I was 
mnch pleased." 

"Indeed?" 

"Mnch pl-i=ei. :ir E^: : ^ : ~:1 an 

niovement of the head. 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



31 



" So much the better." 

" But when I saw you throw a plate at M. de Barjols's 
head, I did not like it." 
" And why not, my lord 1 " 

"Because in England a gentleman does not throw a 
plate at another gentleman's head." 

" My lord," said Eoland, rising and frowning, ''did you 
come here to read me a lecture " 

" Oh, no ; I came to say to you, perhaps you are having 
some trouble to procure a second?" 

" To tell you the truth, Sir John, that is the fact ; and 
just as you knocked at the door, I was asking myself 
whom I could call upon to do me this service." 

"If you like," said the Englishman, "I will be your 
second." 

" I accept gratefully," replied Eoland. 

" That is what I came to say to you." 

Eoland held out his hand. " Thanks ! " he said. 

The Englishman bowed. 

" And now," continued Eoland, ^' since you had the 
thoughtfulness, my lord, to tell me who you were before 
you offered your services, it is only right for me, when I 
accept them, to tell you of myself." 

" Oh, just as you like." 

" My name is Louis de Montrevel ; I am aide-de-camp 
to General Bonaparte." 

" Aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte ! I am very glad 
of it." 

" This will explain to you why I espoused, perhaps a 

little too warmly, the cause of my general." 
" No, not too warmly; only the plate — " 
" Yes, I know, — the provocation did not equal the 

plate. But, you see, I held it in my hand, and did not 

know what to do with it ; so I threw it at M. de Barjols's 

head. It went of itself, before I knew it." 



32 



THE CO^IPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



"You are not going to tell him thati" 

Sot at all ; I tell it to you to ease your conscience." 
"Very ^vell ; then you intend to fight ] " 
"Certainly; that is M-hy I stayed over." 
"And vriili what T\-ill you fight I " 

T'nat ATill not concern you, my lord." 
" Xot concern me ] " 

"Xo : de Barjols is the insulted party, and it is for 
him to choose the kind of weapon." 

'•'Then you will accept whatever he proposes ]" 
X ot I. Sir John, but you for me, since you are good 
enough to act as my second." 

" And if he chooses pistols, at what distance and in 
what manner do you wish to fight 1 " 

That, my lord, is your aftair, and not mine. I do not 
know how these things are managed in England, hut in 
France the combatants have nothing to do with the de- 
tails. The seconds arrange everything, and whatever they 
do is right." 

" Then whatever I do will be right ? " 

"Perfectly right, my lord." 

The Englishman bowed. " The hour and day?" 
Oh, as soon as possible. I have not seen my family 
for two years, and I am eager to meet them again."' 

The Englishman looked at Eoland in astonishment : he 
spoke with as much assurance as if he were certain of not 
being killed. 

Just then some one knocked at the door, and the land- 
lord's voice asked, " May I come in 1 " 

The youncr man replied in the affirm^ative. The door 
opened, and the landlord entered, holding in his hand a 
card, which he presented to his guest. The young man 
took the card and read, "' Charles de Valensolle." 

"From M. Alfred de Barjob," said the landlord. 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



33 



"Very well," said Eolaiid. 

Then, passing the card to the Englishman, Here, this 
concerns you," he said. " It is useless for me to see 
this gentleman. He is M. de Barjols's second, and you 
are mine; arrange the thing between you; only," he 
added, pressing the Englishman's liand and looking at 
him fixedly, " this is a serious matter. I will not inter- 
fere with your arrangements if you make it possible for 
one or the other of us to be killed." 

" I will act as if it were for myself/' replied the other. 

" Then go ; and when all is arranged, come back here. 
I shall not go away." 

Sir John followed the landlord ; Roland reseated him- 
self, and turned his chair once more towards the table. 
He took his pen and began to write. 

When Sir John returned, Roland had written and 
sealed three letters, and was just addressing the last one. 
He motioned to the Englishman to wait until he had fin- 
ished, so that he could give him his full attention. He fin- 
ished addressing the letter, sealed it, and turned around. 

" Well," he asked, " is everything arranged 1 " 

"Yes," replied the Englishman, "and very easily. 
Your opponent is a true gentleman." 

"So much the better," returned Roland. And he 
waited. 

" You will fight in two hours at the fountain of Vau- 
cluse, — a charming spot, — with pistols, walking towards 
each other, each one firing when he pleases, and being 
allowed to advance after his adversary has fired." 

" Upon my word, you are right, Sir John 1 You have 
done well. Did you arrange it 1 " 

" I and M. de Barjols's second, your adversary having 
renounced all tiis privileges as the insulted party." 

" Have you decided upon the weapons ] " 

VOL. I. — 3 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"I offered my pistols, and they were accepted, upon 
my giving my word of honor'that they were as unknown 
to you as to M. de Barjols. They are excellent weapons, 
with which, at twenty paces, I have cut a ball upon the 
blade of a knife." 

"TVhew ! you must shoot pretty well, my lord." 

" Yes ; I am, so they say, the best shot in England." 

" That is a good thing to know ; when I want to get 
killed, Sir John, I shall pick a quarrel with you." 

" Oh, do not seek a quarrel with me," said the English- 
man, for I should be very sorry to be obliged to fight 
you." 

" I will try, my lord, not to trouble you in that way. 
And so it is to be in two hours 1 " 

" Yes; you told me that you were in haste." 

" Exactly, How far is it from here to this charming 
place 1 " 

" You mean Yaucluse ] " 

"Yes." 

" Four leagues." 

" That will take an hour and a half. We have no time 
to lose ; let us dispose of business, and then we can enjoy 
ourselves." 

The Englishman looked at the young man in astonish- 
ment. Roland seemed to pay no attention to the look. 

" Here are three letters," he said : " one for ^Ime. de 
Montrevel, my mother ; one for Mile, de Montrevel, my 
sister ; one for the Citizen Bonaparte, my general. If I 
am killed, you will simply post them. Am I asking too 
much ? " 

" If this misfortune should occur, I will deliver the 
letters myself," replied the Englishman. " Where do 
your mother and sister live ? " 

" At Bourg, in the department of the Ain." 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



35 



"That is not far from here," replied the Englishman. 
" As for General Bonaparte, I will go to Egypt, if neces- 
sary. I should be very glad to meet General Bonaparte." 

" If you take the trouble to carry them yourself, my 
lord, as you suggest, you will not be obliged to take a 
long journey. In three days General Bonaparte will be 
in Paris." 

"Oh," replied the Englishman, without manifesting 
the least astonishment, " you think so 1 " 
" I am sure of it," replied Koland. 

" General Bonaparte is a very extraordinary man. And 
now, have you any other commands for me 1 " 
"Only one, my lord." 
" As many as you will." 

" Thanks ; there is only one, but it is very important." 
" Go on." 

" If I am killed — but I don't think there is much 
chance of it." 

Sir John looked at Roland with the same astonishment 
which he had already three or four times betrayed. 

"If I am killed," repeated Eoland, "for after all, it is 
just as well to take precautions — " 

"Yes, I understand. If you are killed — " 

" Listen attentively now, my lord, for in this thing my 
directions must be followed explicitly." 

" It shall be as you say," replied the Englishman. " I 
am a very exact man." 

" Well, then, if I am killed," repeated Eoland, rising 
and laying his hand upon his companion's shoulder, as if 
to impress upon his memory the words which he was 
about to speak, "you will put my body — just as it is, all 
dressed, without allowing any one to touch it — in a 
leaden casket, which you will cause to be soldered in your 
presence ; you will enclose the leaden casket in an oaken 



36 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



box, which will be nailed up before you ; and finally, 
you will send it to my mother, unless you like better to 
throw the whole thing into the Rhone, which I leave 
absolutely to your own choice, provided you will really 
have it thrown there." 

"It will be no more trouble to me," returned the 
Englishman, " since I am to carry the letter, to take the 
coffin along with me." 

" Then upon my word, my lord," said Roland, with one 
of his strange bursts of laughter, "you are a charming 
man, and you must have been sent to me by Providence 
itself. And now we must be going." 

They both left Roland's room. That of Sir John was 
on the same landing, and Roland waited while the 
Englishman entered it to procure his arms. He came out 
again after a few minutes, holding in his hands a box of 
pistols. 

"And now, my lord," said Roland, " how do we go to 
Yaucluse, — by carriage or on horseback 1 " 

" In a carriage, if you like. A carriage is much more 
convenient if one is wounded. Mine is waiting below." 

" I thought you had had it unharnessed." 

" I did give the order, but I had them run after the 
postilion and countermand it." 

They went downstairs. 

" Tom ! Tom ! " called Sir John to his servant, a domes- 
tic in the severe livery of an English groom, " take care 
of this box." 

" I am going with my lord 1 " asked the servant, in 
English. 

" Yes," replied Sir J ohn. Then, indicating to Roland 
the step of the carriage, which his servant had just 
lowered, " Come, Monsieur de Montrevel," said he. 

Roland entered the carriage and stretched himself out 



THE ENGLISHMAN. 



37 



luxuriously. " It is a fact," he said, " that you English 
are the only ones who really understand travelling- 
carriages. This one is as easy as a bed." 

" Yes," replied Sir John, " the English understand very 
well how to make themselves comfortable ; but the 
French are a most singular and amusing people. Pos- 
tilion, to Vaucluse." 



38 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER lY. 

THE DUEL. 

There was no road beyond Isle. The three leagues from 
Avignon to Isle were traversed in an hour. During that 
hour, Roland, as if he had determined to make the time 
seem short to his companion, was full of life and wit. 
The nearer he approached the place of meeting the more 
his gayety increased. No one who was ignorant of the 
cause of the journey would have suspected that this young 
man, whose talk and laugh were incessant, was threatened 
with mortal danger. At the village of Isle they were 
obliged to leave their carriage. Upon inquiry, they 
learned that they were the first arrivals. They entered 
the path which led to the fountain. 

" Oh," cried Roland, " there must be a fine echo here." 
He uttered two or three cries, which the echo repeated 
most obligingly. "Upon my word," said the young man, 
" this is a magnificent echo. I know none which can be 
compared with it, except that of the Seinonnetta, at 
Milan. Listen, my lord." And he began, with modula- 
tions which showed an admirable voice as well as an ex- 
cellent method, to sing a Tyrolienne, which seemed a 
defiance borne by the returning notes to the human 
* tln^oat. 

Sir John looked and listened with an astonishment 
which he no longer troubled himself to conceal. When 
the last note had died away in the hollows of the moun- 
tain, " Damn it all ! " said Sir John, " I believe you 'vo 
got the blues." 



THE DUEL. 



39 



Roland started, and looked at him as if to question hiru. 
But seeing that Sir John said no more, he asked, " What 
makes you think sol" 

"You are too boisterously gay not to be profoundly 
sad." 

" Well, and does this anomaly astonish you?" 
"Nothing astonishes me. There is a reason for every- 
thing." 

"You are right; the secret lies in being behind the 
scenes. Well, I am going to take you there." 

"Oh, I don't want to force your confidence." 

"You are too courteous for that ; but you will not deny 
that you would like to understand me 1 " 

" Through interest in you, — yes." 

" Well, my lord, this is the explanation of the enigma, 
and I am about to tell you what I have never before told 
any one. I am apparently in excellent health ; but I am 
afflicted with an aneurism, from which I suffer horribly. 
I may have at any moment spasms, attacks of weakness, or 
fainting spells, which would shame a woman. I pass my 
life in taking ridiculous precautions ; and in spite of all, 
Larrey has warned me that I may die at a moment's 
notice, the diseased artery being likely to break at the 
least exertion. You may judge how amusing all this is 
for a soldier. You can understan.d how, from the moment 
that I became aware of my situation, I resolved to get my- 
self killed as speedily as possible. I set about it at once. 
A luckier man would have succeeded long ago ; but I seem 
to be bewitched. Neither balls nor bullets will have any- 
thing to do with me ; it seems as if even swords are afraid 
of notcliing themselves upon me. But I never omit an 
opportunity. You see now why all this passed at table, 
do you not? Well, we are going to fight. I shall act 
like a fool, and give every advantage to my opponent ; 



40 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



but it will be of no use. He- will draw at fifteen paces, at 
ten paces, at five paces, or even standing over me ; but he 
will miss me, or his pistol will miss tire, or burn powder 
without shooting, and I shall lose this fine opportunity, to 
be taken off some day when I least expect it, — perhaps 
when I am drawing on my boots ! But, hush ! here 
comes my adversary." 

In truth, by the same road across the uneven and rocky 
land which Roland and Sir John had crossed, a party of 
three were approaching, seeming to grow larger as they 
drew nearer. Roland counted them. "Three ! " he said. 
" Why three, when we are only two ? " 

" Oh, I forgot," said the Englishman. " M. de Barjols, 
as much in your interest as his own, asked permission to 
bring a surgeon." 

"What for?" asked Roland, frowning. 

"If one of you should be wounded, bleeding will some- 
times save a man's life." 

"Sir John," said Roland, almost fiercely, " I do not un- 
derstand all these delicate points when it comes to a duel. 
W^hen people fight, it is to kill. If they exchange cour- 
tesies beforehand, as your ancestors and mine did at 
Fontenoy, very well ; but when once the swords are out of 
the scabbards, or the pistols loaded, the life of a man must 
pay for the pain he has caused. On your word of honor, 
Sir John, I ask one thing of you : it is that, wounded or 
killed, living or dead, M. de Barjols's surgeon shall not 
touch me." 

" But, Monsieur Roland — " 

"Oh, you may take it or leave it. Your word of 
honor, my lord, or — devil take me ! — I will not 
figl^t." 

The Englishman looked at his companion in astonish- 
ment ; his face had become livid, and he trembled as if 



THE DUEL. 



41 



with terror. Without understanding what it all meant, 
Sir John gave his word. 

" Yery well," said Roland. " This, you see, is another 
of the effects of this charming malady ; it always makes 
me ill to think of a case of surgical instruments, or to see 
a knife or a lancet. I turned pale, did I not 1 " 

" I thought for a moment that you were going to 
faint." 

Roland burst out laughing. " It would have been a 
fine idea," he said, " for our adversaries to arrive and find 
you occupied in giving me smelling-salts, like a fainting 
woman. Do you know what they would have said, — 
and you first of all '? They would have said that I was 
afraid." 

The three new-comers had been advancing all this time, 
and were now within sound of their voices, so that Sir 
John had no time to reply to Roland. They saluted as 
they arrived. Roland, smiling, answered the salute. Sir 
John spoke to him in a low voice. 

" You are still a little pale," he said. " Go and take a 
turn around the fountain ; I will come for you when it is 
time." 

" Ah, that 's a good idea," said Roland ; " I have always 
wanted to see this famous fountain of Yaucluse, the Hip- 
pocrene of Petrarch. You remember his sonnet, — 

" ' Chiare, fresche e dolci acque 
Ove le belle membra 
Pose colei, che sola a me perdona.' 

And if I miss this opportunity, I shall perhaps never find 
another. In which direction is it 1 " 

" You are not thirty steps from it ; follow the path, 
and you will find it at the turn of the road, at the foot of 
that enormous rock whose summit you see." 



42 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"My lord/' said Roland, ''you are the best cicerone I 
ever met ; thanks." And with a friendly wave of the 
hand he went away in the direction of the fountain, hum- 
ming the charming ballad of Philippe Desportes ; — 

Rosette, pour un peu d'absence, 
Yotre coeur vous avez change ; 
Et, moi, sachant cett|i inconstance, 
Le mien autre part j'ai range. 
Jamais plus beaute si legere 
Sur moi tant de pouvoir u'aura ; 
Nous verrons, volage bergere. 
Qui premier s'en repentira." 

Sir John turned around as he heard the modulations of 
the fresh and tender voice, which had something almost 
feminine in its upper notes. His cold and methodical 
mind could understand nothing of this nervous nature, ex- 
cept that he had before his eyes one of the most astonish- 
ing organizations that could be met. The two young men 
awaited him ; the surgeon held himself a little apart. 

Sir John carried in his hand his case of pistols; he 
placed it upon a table-like rock, and drew from his 
pocket a little key which seemed to have been made by 
a goldsmith rather than by a locksmith, with which he 
opened the box. The weapons were magnificent, although 
perfectl}^ simple ; they were from the workshops of Men- 
ton, the grandfather of him who to-day is one of the best 
gunsmiths in London. Sir John handed them for exami- 
nation to M. de Barjols's second, who tried the springs, 
and worked the triggers back and forth to see if the 
action were double or single. They were simple in their 
action. M. de Barjols glanced at them, but did not 
touch them. 

"Our opponent is not acquainted with your weapons?" 
inquired M. de Valensolle. 



THE DUEL. 



43 



" He has never even seen them," replied Sir John ; " I 
give you my word of honor." 

" Oh," said Valensolle, " a simple denial is enough." 

In order that there should be no mistake, they detailed 
once more the conditions of the duel ; then, in order to 
lose as little time as possible in useless preparations, they 
loaded the pistols, replaced them ready loaded in the box, 
gave the box to the surgeon ; and Sir John, with the key 
of the box in his pocket, went in search of Roland. He 
found him talking with a little neatherd who was pastur- 
ing three goats on the steep and rocky slope of the moun- 
tain. Sir John opened his mouth to tell Roland that 
everything was ready ; but the latter, without giving the 
Englishman time to speak, said : — 

" You don't know what this child is telling me, ray 
lord ! It is a veritable legend from the borders of the 
Rhine. He says that this pool, whose depth no one 
knows, extends under the mountain for two or three 
leagues, and is the dwelling-place of a fairy, half woman, 
half serpent, who on calm summer nights glides upon the 
surface of the water, calling the shepherds from the 
mountain, and only showing them her head with its long 
hair, her naked shoulders, and her beautiful arms. But the 
fools are deceived by this semblance of a woman. The}'' 
approach, and sign to her to come to them, while the 
fairy, on her part, motions to them to come to her. They 
advance, without noticing where their feet are going ; all 
at once the earth gives way beneath them ; the fairy ex- 
tends her arms, plunges with them into her watery palace, 
and the next day reappears alone. How the devil can 
these ignorant shepherds have got hold of the same story 
that Virgil related in such beautiful verse to Augustus 
and Mtecenas 1 " He was silent for an instant, with his 
eyes fixed upon the deep blue water ; then, turning 



44 



THE COMPAXICNS OF J EH [J. 



towards Sir John, he said : They say that a swimmer, 
110 matter how yigorous he may be, never reappears after 
plunging into this gulf; if I should take a plunge there, 
perhaps it would be surer than M. de Barjols's bullet. 
At all events, it will do as a last resource ; in the 
mean time, let us try for the bullet. Come, my lord, 
come on." And taking the amazed Englishman's arm, 
he drew him towards those who were waiting. 

In the mean time, these latter had been occupied in 
searching for a suitable place, and had found one. It was 
a little plateau, clinging as it were to the steep slope of 
the mountain, exposed to the setting sun, and containing 
a ruined chateau, which served as a refuge for the shep- 
herds when they were overtaken by the mistral. A flat 
space, about fifty steps long and twenty wide, was to be 
the theatre of the drama, which was now approaching its 
denouement. 

" Here we are, gentlemen," said Sir John. 

" We are ready, gentlemen," replied ]M. de Yalensolle. 

" The adversaries should clearly understand the condi- 
tions of the combat," said Sir John. Then addressing 
M. de Valensolle, he added : Recite them, Monsieur ; 
you are a Frenchman, and I a foreigner; you will explain 
them more clearly than I could." 

" You are one of those foreigners, my lord, who can 
teach the language to poor natives of Provence like us ; 
however, since you are courteous enough to yield the 
place to me, I will obey." And he bowed to Sir John, 
who returned his salute. 

"Gentlemen," continued M. de Barjols's second, "it 
is understood that you are to be placed forty paces apart ; 
that you walk towards each other ; that each one fires 
when he pleases, and, wounded or not, has the privilege 
of advancing after his adversary has fired." 



THE DUEL. 



45 



The duellists bowed in sign of assent, and, as if with 
one voice, said at the same moment, — 
" The weapons ! " 

Sir John drew tlie little key from his pocket, and 
opened the box. Then he approached M. de Barjols 
with it. The latter wished to refer the choice of arms 
to his opponent, but Eoland refused with a gesture, 
saying in a voice of almost feminine sweetness, — 

" After you, Monsieur de Barjols. I hear that, although 
insulted by me, you have renounced every advantage ; 
this is but the least of them, if indeed it can be considered 
one." 

M. de Barjols did not insist further, and took at 
hazard one of the pistols. Sir John offered the other 
to Eoland, who took it, and without even inspecting it, 
let it hang carelessly at his side. 

In the mean time, M. de Valensolle had been measur- 
ing the forty paces ; a stick was placed at the starting- 
point. "Will you measure after me, sir?" he asked 
Sir John. 

" It is needless," replied the other ; " M. de Montrevel 
and I are perfectly willing to trust to you." 

M. de Valensolle put in a second stick at the fortieth 
step. "Gentlemen," said he, "all is ready." 

Eoland's opponent was already at his post, with his hat 
and coat off. The surgeon and the two seconds stood at 
one side. The place had been so well chosen that there 
was no advantage of ground or sunlight for either. Eo- 
land threw down his coat and hat, and placed himself 
opposite M. de Barjols, forty paces away. They both, 
the one from the right and the other from the left, 
looked out over the same horizon. 

The prospect was in harmony with the terrible solem- 
nity of the scene. There was nothing to be seen at Eo- 



46 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



land's right nor at M. de Barjols's left ; the mountain 
descended towards them with the steep slope of a gigan- 
tic roof. But on the opposite side, at M. de Barjols's 
right and Roland's left, it was quite another thing. The 
horizon seemed boundless. In the foreground was the 
reddish plain, pierced on all sides by the points of rocks, 
like a cemetery of Titans whose bones protruded through 
the earth. Behind this, vividly outlined against the set- 
ting sun, lay Avignon, with its girdle of walls and its gigan- 
tic palace, which, like a crouching lion, seemed to hold 
the city panting beneath its claws. Beyond Avignon 
a luminous line, like a river of molten gold, showed the 
Ehone. Finally, beyond the Rhone rose the blue line 
of the hills which separate Avignon from Nismes and 
d'Uzes. Back of all, the sun, at which one of these men 
was in all probability gazing for the last time, was sink- 
ing slowly and majestically into an ocean of purple and 
gold. 

The two men formed a strange contrast. One, with 
his black hair, bronzed complexion, thin limbs, and 
gloomy eye, was the type of that southern race which 
counts among its ancestors Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and 
Spaniards. The other, with his rosy complexion, blond 
hair, large blue eyes, and hands as plump as a woman's, 
was the type of that race of the temperate clime which 
is descended from the Gauls, the Germans, and the 
Normans. 

It would have been easy to fancy that this was not 
merely a duel between two individuals. One might have 
believed it to be a struggle of one people against another 
people, of one race against another, of the South against 
the North. Was it some sucli idea as this which oc- 
cupied Roland's mind and plunged him in melancholy 
revery ] It is not probable. To tell the truth, he seemed 



TPIE DUEL, 



47 



fo forget seconds, duel, and adversary, so absorbed was he 
in the splendid sight before him, M. de Barjols's voice 
withdrew him from his abstraction. 

'^When you are ready, sir, I am," he said, 

Roland started. ^' I beg your pardon for having made 
you wait, sir," he said. " You must excuse my absent- 
mindedness ; I am ready." And with a smile upon his 
lips, and his hair ruffled by the evening breeze, as if he 
had been taking an ordinary stroll, while his adversary on 
the contrary took every precaution customary upon such 
occasions, Roland walked straight towards M. de Barjols. 

Sir John's face, in contrast to his ordinary immobility, 
betrayed deep distress. The distance between the two 
adversaries rapidly diminished. M. de Earjols stopped 
first, took aim, and fired, when Roland was not more 
than ten steps from him. The ball cut a curl from Ro- 
land's head, but did not harm him. 

The young man turned towards his second. What 
did I tell you 1 " he said. 

" Fire, Monsieur, fire ! " said the seconds. 

M. de Barjols remained silent and motionless in the 
place where he had fired. 

"Your pardon, gentlemen," replied Roland; "you will 
permit me. I hope to be the best judge of the time and 
manner in which I shall retaliate. After having re- 
ceived M. de Barjols's fire, I can say a few words to him 
which I could not say before." Then turning towards 
the young aristocrat, who was pale but calm, he said : 

Monsieur, perhaps I was a httle hasty in our discussion 
this morning." And he waited. 

^' It is your turn to fire, Monsieur," replied De Barjols. 

" But," continued Roland, as if he had not heard, 
"you will now understand the cause, and will perhaps 
excuse it. I am aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte." 



48 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"Fire, Monsieur," repeated the young noble. 
Say but a single word of retractation, Monsieur," con- 
tinued the young officer ; " say that General Bonaparte's 
reputation for honor and delicacy is such that an Italian 
proverb, made in a moment of ill-humor by the van- 
quished, can no longer reflect upon him, — say this, and 
I will throw this weapon away, and clasp your hand ; for 
I acknowledge that you are a brave man." 

" I will never render homage to this reputation for 
honor and delicacy of which you speak, until your general- 
in-chief uses the influence which his genius has given him 
to do what Monk did ; in other words, to restore the 
throne to his legitimate sovereign." 

"Ah," said Eoland, with a smile, "that is too much to 
ask of a Republican general." 

" Then I hold to what I said," returned the young no- 
ble. " Fire, Monsieur." And as Eoland did not hasten 
to obey the injunction, he added, stamping his foot, 
" By heavens ! why don't you fire ? " 

At these words Eoland made a movement as if he were 
about to fire into the air. 

But with a quickness of word and gesture which 
prevented him from carrying out the idea, M. de Bar- 
jols exclaimed, " For Heaven's sake, don't fire into the 
air, or you will make me insist upon beginning all over 
again, and giving you the first shot ! " 

" Upon my honor ! " cried Roland, turning as pale as if 
every drop of blood had left his body, " this is the first 
time I ever did as much for any man, no matter who he 
was. Go to the devil, then ! and since you will not 
have life, take death 1" And at the same instant, with- 
out taking the trouble to aim, he lowered his arm and 
fired. 

Alfred de Barjols put his hand to his chest, swayed for- 



THE DUEL. 



49 



ward and back, whirled around, and fell with his face to 
the earth. Roland's ball had pierced his heart. 

Sir John, when he saw De Barjols fall, went straight to 
Roland and led him towards the place where he had left 
his hat and coat. 

''That is the third," murmured Roland, with a sigh; 
" but you are a witness that this one would have it." 
And handing his smoking pistol to Sir John, he put ou 
his coat and hat. 

In the mean time, M. de Yalensolle had picked up the 
pistol which had fallen from his friend's hand, and 
brought it witli the box to Sir John. 

" Well ] " said the Englishman, glancing meaningly 
towards De Barjols. 

" He is dead," replied the second. 

"Did I act the part of a man of honor, Monsieur?" 
asked Roland, wiping away the perspiration which had 
started out upon his face at the news that his opponent 
was dead. 

"Yes," replied M. de Valensolle ; "only, you will 
permit me to say that you have an unlucky hand." 
And bowing to Roland and his friend with exquisite 
politeness, he returned to his friend's corpse. 

"And you, my lord, what say you 1 " asked Roland. 

" I say," replied Sir John, with a kind of forced admir- 
ation, " that you are one of those men whom Shakspeare 
makes to say of themselves, ' Danger and I are two lions 
born on the same day ; but I am the elder.' " 

VOL. I. — 4 



50 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTEE V. 

ROLAND. 

The return journey was sad and silent ; it seemed as if 
Roland, when he saw his chance of death disappear, lost 
all his gayety. The catastrophe of which he had just 
been the cause might well have had something to do 
with this taciturnity ; but Roland on the field of battle, 
and above all during his last campaign with the Arabs, 
had too often been obliged to lead his horse over the 
dead bodies of which he had been the cause to be 
much impressed by the death of a man who was unknown 
to him. There was another reason for this sadness. That 
which the young man had confided to Sir John was 
nothing more than the truth ; he was not feeling regret 
at the death of another, but disappointment at his own 
escape. 

When they entered the hotel of the Palace-Eoyal, Sir 
John went straight to his room to replace his pistols, 
lest the sight of them might affect Roland with remorse ; 
then he went in search of the young officer, to return to 
him the three letters which had been confided to him. 
He found him deep in thought, with his elbows resting 
upon the table. Without speaking a word, the English- 
man laid the three letters before Roland. The young 
man glanced at the addresses, took up the letter which 
he had destined for his mother, broke the seal, and 
read it. As he read, great tears rolled down his cheeks. 



EOLAND. 



51 



Sir John regarded with astonishment this new phase 
of Roland's character. He would have believed every- 
tliing to be possible to this versatile nature, except to 
slied tears which should run silently from the eyes. 

Then, shaking his head, without paying the least atten- 
tion to Sir John's presence, Eoland murmured, " Poor 
Mother ! she would have wept. Perhaps it is better as it 
is ; mothers should not weep for their children." 

And he mechanically tore up the letters written to his 
mother, his sister, and General Bonaparte ; after which, 
he carefully burned every piece. Then, summoning the 
chambermaid, he asked, — 

" What is the latest hour that letters can be posted? " 

" Half past six," she replied ; you have only a few- 
minutes." 

" Wait, then." He took a pen and wrote. 

My dear General, — I told you so ; I am living, and he is 
dead. This looks like a wager. Devoted till death, 
Your paladin, 

Roland. 

Then he sealed the letter, addressed it to " General 
Bonaparte, rue de la Victoire, Paris," and gave it to the 
chambermaid, telling her not to lose a second in taking it 
to the post. It was not until then that he noticed Sir 
John, and held out his hand to him. 

" You have done me a great service, my lord," he said, — 
" one of those which bind men together for all eternity. I 
am already your friend ; will you honor me by becoming 
mine 

Sir John pressed the hand which Roland gave him, 
" Oh," he said, " I thank you very much. I should not 
have presumed to ask for this honor ; but since you offer 
it, I accept." 



52 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



And in his tnrn, the iinpertiirhable Englishman felt a 
strange softening of the heart, and shook off a tear which 
trembled upon his eyelashes. Then, looking at Roland, 
he said, — 

" It is nnfortnnate that you are in such haste to depart ; 
I should like to have spent another day or two with 
you." 

" Where were you going, my lord, when I met you 1 " 
" Oh, nowhere in particular ; I was only travelling for 
amusement. I am very often bored." 
" Then you were going nowhere 1 " 
"I was going everywhere." 

" It is all the same," replied the young officer, smiling. 
" Well, will you do something for me"?" 
" Willingly, if it be possible." 

"Perfectly possible; it only depends upon yourself." 
" mme it." 

" If I had been killed, you were going to take my dead 
body to my mother, or else throw it into the Rhone." 

" I should have taken it to your mother, and not 
thrown it into the Rhone." 

" Well, now, instead of taking me dead, take me living ; 
you will be all the better received." 

"Oh!" 

" We will stay a fortnight at Bourg. It is my native 
town, and one of the most tiresome places in France ; but 
as your countrymen are nothing if not original, perhaps 
you would be amused where others would be bored. Is 
it agreed?" 

" I should like nothing better," replied the English- 
man ; " but I am afraid it would be rather unceremonious 
on my part." 

" Oh, we are not in England, my lord, where etiquette 
is an absolute sovereign. W^e have neither king nor 



KOLAND. 53 

queen, and we did not cut off the head of the poor crea- 
ture they called Marie Antoinette to put Her Majesty 
Etiquette in her place." 

" I should like it very much indeed," said Sir John. 

" As you will see, my mother is an excellent as well as 
a distinguished woman. My sister was sixteen when I 
went away, so she must be eighteen now. She was 
pretty then, and now she must be beautiful. There is no 
one else except my brother Edward, a charming little ras- 
cal of eleven years, who will set off matches against your 
legs, and jabber English with you ; then at the end of 
the fortnight we will go to Paris together." 

''1 have just come from Paris," said the Englishman. 
See here, now ! You were ready to go to Egypt to 
see General Bonaparte ; it is not as far from here to Paris 
as it is to Cairo. I will present you to him ; and pre- 
sented by me, you may rest assured that you will be 
well received. Then, you spoke of Shakspeare just 
now." 

" Oh, yes, I always speak of him." 

" That shows that you like comedies and dramas." 
I am very fond of them." 

" Well, General Bonaparte is on the point of presenting 
one after his own fashion, which will not be lacking in 
interest, I assure you." 

"Then," said Sir John, still hesitating, "you think I 
may without indiscretion accept your offer*?" 

" I certainly do ; and you would be giving pleasure to 
every one, myself included." 

" Then I accept." 

" Bravo ! and now, how soon can you go ?- " 
" As soon as you like. My carriage was already har- 
nessed when you threw that unfortunate plate at M. de 
Barjols's head; but as I should never have known you 



54 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



if it had not been for the plate, I am very glad that you 
threw it, — yes, very glad." 
" Shall we go this evening 1 " 

" This instant. I will go and tell the postilion to send 
some one with more horses, and as soon as they arrive, we 
will start." 

Roland made a sign of assent. 

Sir John went down to give his orders, and came up 
again to say that he had had two chops and a fried 
chicken served. Eoland took his valise and descended. 
The Englishman put his pistols into the box of his car- 
riage. They both ate a little, in order to be able to travel 
all night without stopping ; and as nine o'clock struck 
from the Church of the Cordeliers, they settled themselves 
in the carriage and departed from Avignon, where their 
presence had left a new stain of blood, — Eoland going 
with characteristic carelessness, and Sir John with the im- 
passibility of his nation. A quarter of an hour afterwards 
they were asleep, if one might judge by the silence upon 
both sides. 

We will profit b}^ this moment of repose to give our 
readers a little indispensable information concerning 
Eoland and his family. 

Eoland was born on the 1st of July, 1773, four years 
and some days after Bonaparte, at whose side, or rather in 
attendance upon whom, he made his appearance in this 
book. He was the son of Charles de Montrevel, the 
colonel of a regiment which was for a long time quar- 
tered at Martinique, where the colonel married a Creole 
named Clotilde de la Clemenciere. Three children were 
born of this marriage, two boys and a girl, — Louis, 
whose acquaintance Ave have already madeunder the name 
of Eoland ; Amelie, whose beauty had been spoken of by 
the latter to Sir John ; and Edward. 



KOLAND. 



55 



Recalled to France about 1782 M. de Moiitrevel had 
obtained admission for young Louis de Montrevel to 
the military school of Paris. (We shall see later how he 
exchanged his name of Louis for that of Roland.) Louis 
was the youngest of the pupils. Although he was only 
thirteen years old, he had already attracted notice by his 
fearless and quarrelsome character, of which, seventeen 
years later, he gave an example at the table d'hote at 
Avignon. 

Bonaparte, although he was also only a child, possessed 
the good points of this character, — in other words, while 
he was not quarrelsome, he was positive, headstrong, fear- 
less ; he recognized in the child some of the qualities 
which he himself possessed, and this similarity of senti- 
ments made him pardon his faults, and attach him to 
himself. For his part, the child, realizing the strength of 
the young Corsican, leaned upon him. 

One day the boy sought his great friend, as he called 
T^apoleon, at a moment when the latter was absorbed in 
the solution of a mathematical problem. He knew the 
importance which the future artillery officer attached to 
this science, which had up to that time won for him his 
greatest, or rather his sole conquests. He remained stand- 
ing beside him, without moving. 

The young mathematician was aware of the presence of 
the child, but buried himself still deeper in his problem, 
from which, at the end of ten minutes, he emerged 
victorious. Then he turned towards his young comrade 
with that inner satisfaction which is felt by a man when 
he wins a victory, no matter of what nature. The boy 
was standing, pale, with clenched teeth, stiffened arras, 
and closed fists. 

"Oh, ho!" said young Bonaparte, "what's the matter 
now ] " 



56 



THE C0MPAXI0X5 OF JEHU. 



"Valence, tlie goTernor's nephew, has struck me," 

"Ah," said Bonaparte, laughing, "and do you want me 
to hit him hack I " 

The hoy shook his head. " Xo," he said; "I have 
come to you because I want to fight." 

"With Valence ]" 

'■' But Valence will he too much for you, my child ; he 
is four times as strong as you." 

"But I don't want to fight him as children fight, but 
as men fight." 

"Bahf" 

" Does that astonish you?" asked the boy. 

"^S"©," said Bonaparte; "with what do you want to 
fight I" 

Vith swords." 

'•B:;t the sergeants have the swords, and they would 
never lend them to you." 

" We can get along without swords." 

" With what will you fight, then I " 

The boy pointed to the compasses with which the 
young mathematician had just been working out his 
problem. 

" Oh, my child," said Bonaparte, " compasses would 
make a very ugly wound." 

"So much the better," replied Louis. "I shall kill 
him." 

" And if he should kill you ? " 

" I would rather die than endure his blow." 

Bonaparte insisted no longer ; he dehghted in courage, 
and that of his young companion pleased him. "Very 
well, then," he said ; "I will tell Valence that you want 
to fight with him, but not until to-morrow." 

" Why to-morrow 1 " 



ROLAND. 



57 



" You will have the night for reflection." 

"And from now until to-morrow," replied the boy, "Val- 
ence will think that I am a coward." Then, shaking his 
head, he said, " It is too long from now until to-morrow j " 
and lie turned to go. 

" Where are you going 1 " asked Bonaparte. 

" I am going to ask some one else to be my friend." 

" Then I am no longer your friend 1 " 

" You are one no longer, because you believe me to be 
a coward." 

Very well," said the young man, rising. 

"You will go?" 

"I will go." 

" Now?" 

" Now." 

"Ah," cried the child, "I beg your pardon! you are 
always my friend ! " And he fell upon his neck weeping. 
They were the first tears which he had shed since he had 
received the blow. 

Bonaparte found Valence, and gravely explained the 
mission with which he was charged. 

Valence was a tall fellow of seventeen, who by reason 
of a beard and mustaches looked as if he were twenty. 
He was, besides, cooler than the one whom he had 
insulted. He replied that Louis had pulled his queue 
(they wore queues at that time) as if it were a bell-rope ; 
that he had told him twice not to do it again, but that 
Louis had come back the third time ; and that then, 
seeing in him only a mischievous boy, he had treated him 
accordingly. 

Valence's reply was carried to Louis, who said that 
pulling a queue was sport, but that giving a blow was 
insult. Obstinacy gave to the child of thirteen the logic 
of a man of thirty. 



58 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



The modern Popilius returned to carry war to Valence. 

The young man was in an embarrassing position. He 
could not fight with a child, under pain of ridicule ; if he 
fought and was wounded, it would be odious ; and if he 
gave a wound, he should never forgive himself. However, 
Louis's obstinacy, which did not diminish, gave gravity to 
the situation. They assembled a council of the seniors, 
as was done on serious occasions. 

The council of seniors decided that one of their number 
could not fight with a child ; but that as the boy obsti- ^ 
natel}^ persisted in regarding himself as a man, Valence 
should say to him before all his companions that he was 
sorry to have treated him as a child, and that henceforth 
he would look upon him as a young man. 

They went for Louis, who was waiting in his friend's 
room, and brought him into the midst of the circle which 
the young pupils had formed in the court. There Valence, 
to whom his comrades had dictated a speech which had 
been the subject of much deliberation among them, 
declared to Louis that he exceedingly regretted what had 
happened ; that he had treated him according to his age, 
and not according to his intelligence and courage ; and 
begged him to excuse his hasty action, and to shake hands, 
in token that all was forgotten. 

But Louis shook his head. " My father, who is a 
colonel, said one day," he replied, " that he who received 
a blow and did not fight was a coward. The first time I 
see my father, I am going to ask him if he who gives the 
blow and then makes excuses in order not to fight is not 
more of a coward than the other." 

The young men looked at one another ; but the general 
sentiment had been against a duel which would be nothing 
more than an assassination, and they, Bonaparte included, 
unanimously assured the child that he ought to be content 



EOLAND. 



59 



with what Valence had said, and that his words had ex- 
pressed the general opinion. 

Louis went away, pale with anger, and sulky with his 
great friend, who, he said, had sacrificed the interests of 
his honor. 

The next day, at a matheruatical recitation of the 
seniors, Louis glided into the schoolroom ; and while 
Valence was at the blackboard, he approached him before 
any one noticed it, mounted a stool in order to reach up to 
his face, and returned the blow which he had received on 
the previous evening. 

" There," he said, " now we are quits, and I have your 
apologies besides ; for I shall never make any to you, you 
may be sure of that." 

The scandal was great ; this had taken place in the 
presence of the professor, who was obliged to report it to 
the head of the school, the Marquis Tiburce Valence. 

The latter, who knew nothing of the previous blow, 
had the culprit brought before him, and after a terrible 
reprimand announced to him that he could no longer 
belong to the school, and that he must that very day be 
ready to return to Bourg, to his mother. 

Louis replied that he would be ready in ten minutes, 
and that in a quarter of an hour he would leave the 
school. Of the blow which he had himself received,^ he 
said not a word. 

His reply sounded impertinent to Marquis Tiburce 
Valence ; he was tempted to put the insolent boy under 
arrest for a week, but he could not arrest him and expel 
him at the same time. A person was detailed to watch 
the boy until he should be safely in the train ; Mme. de 
Montrevel was to be notified to meet her son on his 
arrival. 

Bonaparte met the boy, who was followed by his guard, 
and asked an explanation. 



60 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



I would tell jou if you were still my friend," replied 
the Tjoy ; "but you are not. Wliy do you disturb your- 
self about what happens to me ? " 

Bonaparte motioned to the guard ; and the latter, while 
Louis put his little possessions together, came and talked 
to him at the door. He learned then that the boy had 
been turned out of the school. It was a serious business, — 
one that would blast the hopes of a whole family, and 
perhaps ruin the future of his young comrade. With that 
rapidity of decision which was one of his characteristics, 
he demanded an audience with the marquis, meanwhile 
telling the guard not to hasten Louis's departure. 

Bonaparte was an excellent pupil, much loved in the 
school, and much esteemed by Marquis Tiburce Valence ; 
his request was instantly granted. He related to the 
governor all that had passed, and, without blaming 
Valence in the least, he endeavored to exonerate Louis. 

"Is this true, sir, which you have just told meV de- 
manded the governor. 

"You can ask your nephew himself; he will tell you 
the truth." 

They sent for Valence : he had just heard of Louis's 
expulsion, and was on his way to relate to his uncle what 
had passed. His story agreed in every particular with 
that of Bonaparte. 

" Very well," said the governor. " Louis shall not go ; 
you may go instead ; you are old enough to leave the 
school." Then, ringing, he said, " Let them send me the 
table of vacant sub-lieutenancies." 

The same day a sub-lieutenancy was asked for in hot 
haste, and that very evening Valence set out to join his 
regiment. He went to say good-by to Louis, who en- 
dured his embrace half willingly, half in spite of himself, 
while Bonaparte held his hands. 



ROLAND. 



61 



" It is all very well now," said the boy j " but if we 
ever meet again, and each of us has a sword by his 
side — " A menacing gesture finished the phrase. Val- 
ence went away. 

On the 10th of October, 1785, Bonaparte received his 
own brevet of sub-lieutenant; his was one of the fifty- 
eight that Louis XVL signed for the military school. 
Eleven years later, on the 15th of November, 1796, Bona- 
parte, general-in-chief of the army of Italy, at the head 
of the bridge of Arcole, which was defended by two 
regiments of Croates and two pieces of artillery, seeing 
shot and shell decimating his ranks, feeling victory 
waver beneath his hands, and alarmed at the hesita- 
tion of the bravest, tore from the stiffened fingers of 
a corpse a tri-colored flag, and darted upon the bridge, 
crying : " Soldiers, are you no longer the men of Lodi 1 " 
when he saw that he was preceded by a young lieu- 
tenant who protected him with his body. This did not 
suit Bonaparte; he wanted to be first; he would have 
liked, had it been possible, to have gone alone. He 
seized the young man by his coat-tail, and drew him 
back. 

"Citizen," he said, ''you are only a lieutenant, and I 
am general-in-chief. I must go first." 

" You are right," replied the other ; and he followed 
Bonaparte instead of preceding him. 

In the evening, when he learned that two Austrian di- 
visions had been completely destroyed, when he saw the 
two thousand prisoners that he had made, and counted 
the captured artillery and flags, Bonaparte remembered the 
young lieutenant who had preceded him at a moment 
when he had thought that nothing but death was before 
him. 

" Berthier," he said, " tell my aide-de-camp Valence to 



62 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



go and look for a young lientenant of grenadiers whom I 
noticed this morning on the bridge of Arcole." 

"General," stammered Berthier, "Valence is wounded." 

" That 's a fact ; T have not seen him to-day. "Wounded, 
is he 1 Where, how, — on the field of battle 1 " 

" No, General ; he had a quarrel yesterday, and received 
a sword-thrust in his chest." 

Bonaparte frowned. " Every one around me knows that 
I do not like duels ; the blood of a soldier belongs not to 
himself, but to France. Give the order to Muiron, 
then." 

" He is killed, General." 

" Then to Elliot." 

" Killed also." 

Bonaparte drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and 
passed it over his forehead, which was wet with perspira- 
tion. "To whom you will, then; but I want to see that 
lieutenant." He dared name no one else, for fear of hear- 
ing again the fatal words, " He is killed." 

A quarter of an hour later, the young lieutenant was 
brought to his tent. The lamp gave only a feeble light. 

" Advance, Lieutenant," said Bonaparte. 

The young man took three steps, and entered the circle 
of light. 

"Are you the one," continued Bonaparte, "who tried 
to precede me this morning 1 " 

" It was a wager, General," replied the young lieuten- 
ant, gayly, in a voice that made the general tremble. 

" And I made you lose it '? " 

"Perhaps so; perhaps not." 

" And what was this wager 1 " 

" That I should be promoted to the rank of captain 
to-day." 

"You have won." 



ROLAND. 



63 



"Thanks, General." 

The young man darted forward as if to clasp Bona- 
parte's hand, and then suddenly made a movement back- 
wards. Tlie light had shone upon his face for an instant, 
and that instant had been enough for the general to 
notice his countenance, as he had already noticed his 
voice. Neither was unknown to him. He sought for 
an instant in his memory, but finding it treacherous he 
said, — 

" I know you." 

" That is very possible, General." 

"It is very certain; but I do not remember your 
name." 

" You have so conducted yourself, General, that your 
own cannot be forgotten." 
" Who are you ? " 
"Ask Valence, General." 

Bonaparte uttered a cry of joy. "Louis de Montrevel," 
he said ; and he opened his arms. 

This time the young lieutenant did not hesitate to 
throw himself into them. 

That 's all right," said Bonaparte. " You will serve 
for a week in your new rank, so that we may get used to 
seeing you with a captain's epaulettes, and then you shall 
take my poor Muiron's place as aide-de-camp. Go ! " 

"Once more," said the young man, making a gesture 
as if to open his arms. 

" Ah, yes, indeed," said Bonaparte, joyously. And hold- 
ing him close after embracing him a second time, he 
asked, "Was it you, then, who wounded Valence 

"Zounds! General," said the young man, "you were 
there when I promised it to him. A soldier must keep 
his word." 

A week later. Captain Montrevel took the position of 



64 



THE COMPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



ordnance officer near the general-in-chief, who had re- 
placed his given name of Louis, in bad odor just then, by 
the one of Roland j and the young man consoled him- 
self for being no longer the descendant of Saint Louis by 
becoming the nephew of Charlemagne. 

Eoland, — no one thought of calling Captain Montre- 
vel Louis after Bonaparte had baptized him Roland, — 
Roland went through the Italian campaign with the gen- 
eral-in-chief, and returned with him to Paris after the 
peace of Campo Formio. 

When the expedition to Egypt was decided upon, 
Roland, who had been recalled to his mother by the death 
of the General of Brigade de Montrevel, who had been 
killed on the Rhine while his son was fighting on the 
Adige and the ]\Iincio, was one of the first of those de- 
signed by the commander-in-chief to take a high rank in 
the useless but poetical crusade which he contemplated. 
He left his mother, his sister Amelie, and his young 
brother Edward at Bourg, his father's native city. They 
inhabited^ at iS oires-Fontaines, three quarters of a league 
from the town, a charming house which they called 
a chateau, and which with a farm and a few hundred acres 
of land around it formed the entire fortune of the gen- 
eral, amounting to about six or eight thousand livres of 
income. 

The departure of Roland upon this venturesome expe- 
dition was a great grief to the widow. The death of the 
father seemed to be an omen of that of the son ; and 
Mme. de Montrevel, a sweet and tender Creole, was not a 
Spartan mother. Bonaparte, who loved his old comrade 
of the military school with all his heart, had permitted 
him to join the army at the last moment at Toulon. But 
the fear of arriving too late had prevented Roland from 
taking full benefit of this permission. He left his mother 



ROLAND. 



65 



with a promise he could not keep, — namely, not to expose 
himself to clanger except in case of absolute necessity ; 
and he arrived at Marseilles a week before the fleet set 
sail. 

It is not our intention to relate in detail the campaign 
in Egypt, any more than that of Italy. We will mention 
only that which is absolutely necessary to a proper under- 
standing of this story, and of the development of Roland's 
character. On the 19th of May, 1798, Bonaparte and 
his army set sail for the East; on the 15th of June 
the chevaliers of Malta gave up to him the keys of 
their citadel. On the 2d of July the army disem- 
barked at Marabout; on the same day, it took Alex- 
andria; on the 25th Bonaparte entered Cairo, after 
liaving defeated the Mamelukes at Chebreiss and at 
the Pyramids. 

Daring this succession of marches and battles Roland 
had been as we have seen him, lively and courageous, 
braving the devouring heats of the day and the icy dews 
of the nights, and throwing himself like a hero or a fool 
amidst Turkish sabres or Bedouin balls. During the forty 
days that had been occupied by the transit, he had 
scarcely left the interpreter's side ; and he had thus learned 
not only to understand Arabic, but to make himself un- 
derstood. It often happened, therefore, that when the 
general did not care to have recourse to the regular inter- 
2)reter, Roland was charged with communications to mufti, 
ulema, or sheik. 

During the night of the 20th and 21st of October, 
Cairo revolted; at five o'clock in the morning General 
Dupuy died at the point of a lance'; at eight o'clock in 
tlie morning, when the insurrection seemed to be getting 
under control, an aide-de-camp of the dead general came 
in haste to announce that the Bedouins from the outlying 

VOL. I. — 5 



66 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



country were menacing Bab-el-Xasr, or the gate of la 
Yictoire. 

Bonaparte was breakfasting with his aide-de-camp 
Sulkowsky, who had been seriously wounded at' Sala- 
hieh, and who was scarcely able to leave his bed. Bon- 
aparte, in his preoccupation, forgot the young Pole's 
condition. 

" Sulkowsky," he said, ^^take fifteen guides, and go and 
see what this rabble want of us." 

Sulkowsky arose. 
General," said Eoland, " permit me to execute this 
commission. My comrade can scarcely stand." 

" You are right," said Bonaparte ; "go ! " 

Eoland went out, procured fifteen guides, and started. 

But the order had been given to Sulkowsky, and Sul- 
kowsky was determined to execute it himself. He also 
started out, with five or six men whom he found ready. 

Either by chance, or because he knew the roada cut of 
Cairo better than Eoland did, he arrived at the gate of 
la Yictoire a few moments before him. 

Y'hen Eoland got there, he discovered that the Arabs 
were in the act of carrying away an of&cer ; the five or 
six men were already killed. Sometimes Arabs, while 
massacring the common soldiers, will spare the officers in 
hopes of ransom. Eoland recognized Sulkowsky. He 
pointed him out with his sabre to his fifteen men, and 
then charged at a gallop, — Half an hour later, one of 
the guides returned alone to the general's quarters, and an- 
nounced that Sulkowsky, Eoland, and his twenty-one 
companions had all been killed. 

Bonaparte, as we have said, loved Eoland as a brother 
or a son ; he questioned the guide, with a view to learn- 
ing all the details of the catastrophe. The guide had 
seen an Arab cut off" Sulkowsky's head and attach it to 



ROLAND. 



67 



his saddle-bow. As for Roland, his horse had been killed 
under him. He had disengaged himself from the stirrups, 
and fought for a moment on foot, but had been lost sight 
of in a discharge of musketry, almost at the very last. 

Bonaparte sighed, and murmured with a tear ''Another 
one ! " Then he seemed to think no more about it. 
However, he ascertained the name of the tribe of Bedouin 
Arabs who had carried off two that were dearest to him. 
He learned that it was a tribe of unsubdued Arabs, whose 
village lay at a distance of about ten leagues. Bonaparte 
let them alone for a month, in order that they might feel 
themselves perfectly secure ; at the end of that time he 
ordered one of his aides-de-camp, named Croisier, to take 
a detachment, surround the village, destroy the huts, cut 
off the heads of the men, and bring them in sacks to 
Cairo; and with them the remainder of the population, — 
namely, the women and children. 

Croisier and his men executed the order promptly ; 
they brought to Cairo all the women and children that 
they could capture, and with them a live Arab, bound 
fast to a horse. 

"Why did you bring tliis living man?" demanded 
Bonaparte ; " I told you to cut off the head of every man 
capable of bearing arms." 

" General," replied Croisier, who understood a smatter- 
ing of Arabic, " just as I was about to cut oft' this man's 
head I managed to make out that he was offering to ex- 
change his life for that of a prisoner. I thought that 
there was plenty of time to cut off his head, so I brought 
him along. If I have made a mistake, the ceremony 
can take place here instead of yonder; that's all tlie 
differenee." 

The interpreter Ventura was sent for, and he questioned 
the Bedouin. The man replied that he had saved the 



68 



THE COMPANIOXS OF JEHU. 



life of a French officer who had been seriously wounded 
at the gate of la Yictoire ; that this officer, who spoke a 
little Arabic, had called himself aide-de-camp to General 
Bonaparte ; that he had sent him to his brother, who 
practised medicine in a neighboring tribe ; that the officer 
was a prisoner in this tribe, and that if they would 
promise him his life he would write to his brother to send 
the prisoner to Cairo. 

This might be only a story to gain time : but on the 
other hand there might be some truth in it. At all events, 
nothing would be risked by waiting. The Arab was 
placed under guard, and provided with a thaleh, who wrote 
at his dictation a letter which he sealed with his own seal. 
An Arab from Cairo then departed to negotiate. If the 
negotiator succeeded, it meant life for the Bedouin, and 
five hundred piastres for the Arab. Three days later the 
man returned with Roland. 

Bonaparte had hoped for this result, but had not dared 
to believe in it. His heart of bronze, which had seemed 
insensible to grief, leaped with joy. He took Boland in 
his arms, as upon the day when he had found him again, 
and two tears — two pearls, for Bonaparte's tears were 
rare — ran from his eyes. 

As for Boland, there was something strange about him. 
He remained gloomy in the midst of the rejoicing at his 
return ; he confirmed the Arab's story, and requested the 
man's release ; but he refused to give any personal details as 
to the manner in which he had been taken by the Bedouins 
and how he had been treated during his captivity. As for 
Sulkowsky, he had been captured and decapitated under 
his very eyes, and there was nothing more to be done for 
him. Roland resumed his duties, as a matter of habit ; 
but it was remarked that what had formerly been courage 
with him had become recklessness ; that what had been 



ROLAND. 



69 



a longing for glory appeared now to be a desire for death. 
On the other hand, as often happens to those who brave 
fire and steel, they seemed to avoid him miraculously ; 
before and behind him, and at both sides, men fell, but 
he remained standing, invulnerable as the demon of war 
himself. 

At the time of the campaign in Syria, two messengers 
Vv'ere sent to summon Djezzar-Pacha to surrender Saint- 
Jean d'Acre. The two messengers never returned ; they 
had had their heads cut off'. A third one had to be sent. 
Roland insisted upon going, and gained the permission of 
the general-in-chief. He went, and returned safely. He 
took part in each of the nineteen assaults upon the for- 
tress ; at each assault he was seen to enter at the breach. 
He was one of the ten men who penetrated into the 
Maudite tower ; nine remained there, but he returned 
without a scratch. 

During the retreat, Bonaparte ordered the remnant of 
cavalry to give up their horses to the sick and wounded. 
There was much reluctance to lend horses to those who 
were suff'ering from the plague. Roland, however, gave 
his horse to these from choice. Three fell from it dead ; 
he mounted after them, and arrived at Cairo safe and 
sound. At Aboukir he threw himself into the midst of 
the melee, penetrated to the pacha, forcing his way 
through the circle of blacks who surrounded him, and 
took him by the beard, braving the fire of his two pistols, 
of which one burned the powder only ; the ball from the 
other passed under his arm, and killed a guide behind 
him. 

When Bonaparte resolved to return to France, Roland 
was one of the first to whom he communicated the 
decision. Any one else would have received the intelli- 
gence with joy ; but Roland only said, — 



70 



THE COMPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



" I would have preferred to remain here, General. 
There are more opportunities for being killed." 

However, it would have been an act of ingratitude not 
to have accompanied his chief, and Roland followed him. 
During the whole journey he remained gloomy and 
taciturn. It was oulj^ when they reached the waters of 
Corsica, and came in sight of the English fleet, that he 
became once more animated. Bonaparte had declared to 
Admiral Ganteaume that he would fight to the death, 
and that he would blow up the ship rather than lower his 
colors. 

They passed through the midst of the fleet without 
being seen, and on the Sth of October, 1799, landed at 
Frejus. Every one was eager to be the first to touch the 
soil of France. Roland was the last to do so. 

The general-in-chief seemed to pay no attention to these 
detai]s, but not one escaped him. He sent Eugene, 
Eerthier, Bourrienne, his aides-de-camp and his suite, by 
the road to Gap and Draguignan. He himself took, 
incognito, the road to Aix, in order to judge for him- 
self the state of the South, keeping only Roland with 
him. Hoping that the sight of his family would dissipate 
this mysterious melancholy, the geiieral announced to 
him, upon arriving at Aix, that he would leave him at 
Lyons, and allow him three weeks' leave, as a pleasure 
for himself and a surprise for his mother and sister. 

Roland replied : " Thanks, General ; my mother and 
sister will be very glad to see me again." 

Formerly he would have replied : Thanks, General ; 
I shall be very glad to see my mother and sister again." 

We have seen wliat passed at Avignon ; we have seen 
with what profound scorn of danger and with what bitter 
disgust of life Roland went forth to a terrible duel. We 
have heard the reason which he gave to Sir John to 



ROLAND. 



71 



account for his carelessness in the face of death. Was 
the reason good or bad, true or false 1 Sir John was 
obliged to content himself with it, for Eoland was not 
disposed to give him another. 

And now, as we have said, they both slept, or seemed 
to sleep, while they were carried rapidly by two galloping 
post-horses over the road between Avignon and Orange. 



72 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER VI. 

MORGAN. 

With the reader's permission, we will leave Eoland 
and Sir John for a while, so comfortably situated that 
they need cause us no uneasiness, and turn our attention 
to a person who has thus far scarcely appeared in this 
story, but who nevertheless is destined to play an impor- 
tant part in it. We mean the man who came, masked 
and armed, into the dining-room of the hotel at Avignon, 
to bring back to Jean Picot the two hundred louis which 
had been stolen from him by mistake, under the impression 
that they were government money. 

As we have seen, the audacious bandit, who called 
himself Morgan, came to Avignon masked and on horse- 
back in broad daylight. When he went into the hotel he 
left his horse at the door ; and as if the animal enjoyed 
the same liberty as his master, in the pontifical and 
royalist town, he found him waiting when he came out, 
and unfastening him, leaped upon his back, went out 
through the gate of Oulle, skirted the walls at a gallop, 
and disappeared on the road to Lyons. But when he was 
a quarter of a league away from Avignon, he drew his 
cloak closely around him, to conceal his weapons, and 
taking oft' his mask, slipped it into his pocket. 

Those whom he had left at Avignon in such doubt as 
to what this terrible Morgan, the terror of the South, 
could be, might then, if they liad happened to be on the 
road from Avignon to Bedarides, have seen with their 



MORGAN. 



73 



own eyes whetlier the appearance of the bandit was as 
terrible as his reputation. There is no doubt that the 
features which would then have been disclosed to their 
view would have accorded so little with their preconceived 
ideas, that their astonishment would have been extreme. 

In fact, the mask, which had been removed by a white 
and delicate hand, had disclosed the face of a young man 
not more than twenty four or five years of age, who, by 
the regularity of his features and the sweetness of his 
expression, might almost have passed for a woman. One 
detail alone gave to his face, at certain moments, a strange 
firmness; under the beautiful blond hair which, after the 
fashion of the time, floated over his forehead and temples, 
he had eyebrows, eyes, and lashes as black as ebony. The 
remainder of the face, as we have said, was almost 
feminine. It was composed of two little ears, of which 
only the extremities could be seen under the tufts of hair 
which the wits of the period had dubbed '* dogs' ears ; " 
of a straight and perfectly proportioned nose ; of a mouth 
which, though rather large, was rosy and always smiling, 
disclosing thereby a double row of admirable teeth ; and 
of a clear-cut and delicate chin, whose bluish tint showed 
that the beard, had it been allowed to grow, would have 
presented the same strange contrast to the hair, for it 
would have been of the most pronounced black. 

As for the figure of the unknown, that had been 
clearly visible as he entered the dining-room at Avignon. 
It was tall, well proportioned, and flexible ; and although 
it did not denote great muscular force, it showed extra- 
ordinary agility. The manner in which ho sat his horse 
showed him to be an accomplished equestrian. 

With his cloak thrown back over his shoulder, his 
mask hidden in its folds, and his hat pulled well down 
over his eyes, the unknown resumed the rapid pace wdiich 



74 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



he had fur the moment abandoned, crossed Bedarides 
at a gallop, and when he came to the first houses of 
Orange, entered a great gate, which immediately closed 
behind him. A servant was waiting, who sprang at once 
to the horse's bridle. The rider leaped swiftly to the 
ground. 

*'• Is your master here ? " he asked. 
Xo, Monsieur le Baron/' replied the servant. " He 
was obliged to go away last night j and if Monsieur came, 
I was to say to him that my master was on business 
connected with the company." 

" Very well, Baptiste. I have brought back his horse 
in good condition, except that he is rather tired. You 
must bathe him with wine, and for two or three days you 
had better give him barley instead of oats. He has made 
something like forty leagues since yesterday morning." 
AVas Monsieur le Baron pleased with him ] " 

" Much pleased. Is the carriage ready T' 

"All harnessed, and waiting in the coach-house. The 
postilion is taking a drink with Julien. It was thought 
better to keep him away from the house, so that he 
should not see Monsieur's arrival." ^ 

" He thinks, then, tiiat it is your master whom he is to 
take with him I " 

" Yes ; here is my master's passport, which was used 
when the horses were engaged; and as my master has 
gone to Bordeaux with Monsieur le Baron's passport, and 
as Monsieur le Baron is going to Geneva with my master's 
passport, it is probable that the skein of thread ^vill be so 
finely tangled that the damned police, no matter how 
clever their fingers are, will have some trouble in 
straightening it out." 

" Unfasten that valise from the saddle, Baptiste, and 
give it to me." 



MORGAN. 



75 



Baptiste undertook to obey, but the valise almost 
slipped from liia bands. " Ah," he laughed, " Monsieur 
did not warn me. What the devil ! Monsieur le Baron 
does not seem to have wasted his time." 

"You are mistaken there, Baptiste. If I did not lose 
all my time, I at least lost a great deal. I must make up 
for it now as rapidly as possible." 

' Won't Monsieur stop long enough to have some 
breakfast 1 " 

"I will eat a little, but I cannot spare much time." 

" Monsieur will not be delayed. It is now two o'clock 
in the afternoon, and breakfast has been waiting ever 
since ten o'clock this morning. Luckily it was a cold 
breakfast to start with." 

And Baptiste hastened to do the honors of the house in 
his master's absence, by showing the way to the dining- 
room. 

" There is no need of that," remarked the guest ; " I 
know the way perfectly well. You had better go and 
see about the carriage. Have it at the entrance, with the 
door open, so that I can get in quickly, before the pos- 
tilion sees me. Here is money to pay him for the first 
stage of the journey." 

And the stranger who had been addressed as baron 
gave a handful of paper money to Baptiste. 

But, Monsieur," expostulated the latter, " here is 
enough to pay for the whole journey to Lyons." 

" Pay as far as Valence, under pretext that I want to 
sleep. You may keep the rest for your trouble." 

" Shall I put your valise in the carriage 1 " 

" I will put it there myself." 

And taking the valise from the servant's hands, with- 
out appearing to notice its weight, he went towards the 
dining-room, while Baptiste went in the direction of the 



76 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



iieigliboriDg wineshop, putting his money in order as he 
went. 

As the stranger had said, the way was familiar to him, 
for he turned down a passage without hesitation, and 
opened first one door and then another. When he had 
opened tlie last one, he saw a table elegantly served. A 
fowl, two partridges, a cold ham, several kinds of cheese, 
a dessert composed of luscious fruits, and two carafes 
containing wine, one the color of ruby and the other 
like topaz, comprised a breakfast which, although it 
was evidently intended for one, as only one cover was 
laid, would, upon occasion, have sufficed for three or 
four. 

The first care of the young man, when he entered the 
dining-room, was to go straight to a mirror, take off his 
hat, and arrange his hair with the aid of a little comb 
which he drew from his pocket. After which he went to 
a basin of faience, took up a napkin which seemed to 
have been provided for tlie jjurpose, and washed his face 
and hands. It was only after these details had been 
scrupulously attended to, that he finally placed himself 
at the table. 

A few minutes sufficed to satisfy an appetite to which 
fatigue and youth had lent tremendous proportions; and 
when Baptiste appeared to announce that the carriage 
was ready, he found him standing, as if expecting the 
summons. 

Tlie stranger pulled his hat over his eyes, wrapped his 
cloak around him, and put his valise under his arm ; and 
as Baptiste had taken care that the carriage step should 
be brought close to the door, he sprang into the carriage 
without having been seen by the postilion. 

Baptiste shut the door upon him ; then, addressing the 
postilion, he said, — 



MORGAN. 



77 



" You have been paid as far as Valence for post and 
guides, have n't you 1 " 

" Yes ; do you want a receipt ? " returned the other, 
grinning. 

" No ; but M. le Marquis de Eibier, my master, does 
not want to be disturbed before he gets to Valence." 

" All right ! " replied the postilion. " We won't disturb 
the citizen marquis. Come, get up ! " 

And he started up his horses with an eloquent crack of 
the whip which seemed to say, " Look out, there, or it 
will be the worse for you. My passenger is a man who 
can afford to pay well, and he can ride over the rest 
of you ! " 

t Once in the carriage, the counterfeit Marquis de Ribier 
opened the windows, lowered the blinds, raised the 
stuffed seat, put his valise into the box, sat down again, 
wrapped his cloak around him, and sure of not being 
disturbed until he reached Valence, went to sleep as he 
had breakfasted, with the healthy appetite of youth. 

The journey from Orange to Valence is made in eight 
hours. Just before they entered the town the traveller 
awoke. He cautiously raised a blind, and saw that he 
was going through the little town of Paillasse. It was 
night. He struck his repeater, and found that it was 
eleven o'clock. Not thinking it worth while to go to 
sleep again, he counted up the posts to be paid as far as 
Lyons, and prepared his money. 

When the postilion from Valence approached his com- 
rade, whose place he was about to take, the traveller 
heard the latter say ; " He 's one of the old timers ; but 
he is recommended from Orange, and since he pays twenty 
sous for guides, we must treat him like a patriot." 

" All right," responded the man from Valence, we 
will treat him like one." 



78 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

The traveller, deeming that the proper moment for in- 
terfering had arrived, raised his blind. 

" And you will do me no more than justice," he said. 
" A patriot ! I am proud to call myself one, and a first-rate 
one, too ; and in proof of it, take this and drink the 
health of the Republic." And he gave a note for a hun- 
dred francs to the postilion who had recommended him 
to the good offices of the other. Then, seeing that the 
latter looked greedily at the slip of paper, he said : " Here 
is as much for you, if you will say to the others what has 
just been said to you." 

" Oh, don't worry, citizen," replied the man ; " there 
is only one order to be given from here to Lyons, — 
Hurry ! " 

"And here is the money in advance for the sixteen 
posts, including the double post of entrance. I pay 
twenty sous for guides ; you can arrange that among 
yourselves." 

The postilion bestrode his horse, and set off at a 
gallop. 

While they were waiting for fresh horses, a man dressed 
as a porter, who, with his wooden frame on his back, was 
seated upon a stone, rose, approached the carriage, and 
said a few words to the young companion of Jehu which 
appeared to cause the latter great astonishment. 

" Are you sure of it 1 " he asked. 

" I tell you that I saw him w^ith my own eyes," re- 
plied the man. 

" Then I can announce this to our friends as certain 1 " 

" You may ; only make haste. " 

"Have they been notified at Servas 

" Yes ; you will find a horse ready between Servas 
and Sue." 

The postilion approached ; the young man exchanged a 



MORGAN. 



79 



last look with the porter, who hastened away as if he were 
the bearer of an urgent message. 

"What road, citizen?" asked the postilion. 

" The road to Bourg ; I must be at Servas at nine 
o'clock in the evening. I will pay thirty sous for 
guides." 

" Fourteen leagues in five hours is pretty hard, but it 
can be done." 

" Will it be done 1 " 

" We will try ; " and the postilion started his horses 
at a gallop. 

As nine o'clock was striking, they entered Servas. 

" Six livres for you if you will not change horses, and 
will take me half way on the road to Sue ! " called the 
young man through the door. 

" All right !" replied the postilion. And the carriage 
passed the post-house without stopping. 

An eighth of a league from Servas, Morgan stopped the 
carriage, put his head out of the door, brought his hands 
together, and imitated the cry of the screech-owl. The 
imitation was so good, that a screech-owl answered him 
from the neighboring wood. 

^' This is the place ! " cried Morgan. 

The postilion checked his horses. " If this is the 
place," he said, " there is no need of going any farther." 

The young man took his valise, opened the door, got 
out, and approaching the postilion, said : Here are the 
six livres I promised you." 

The postilion took the piece of money, screwed it into 
his eye, and kept it there, as a young exquisite of our 
day secures his eyeglass. Morgan guessed that this pan- 
tomime had some significance. 

Well," he said, " what do you mean by that 1 " 

*^ That means," replied the postilion, " that it is no 
use J I can still see with one eye." 



80 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" I understand," replied the young man, laughing ; 

and if I stop up the other eye 1 " 

" Dame I then I could n't see a thing ! " 

" Here is a droll fellow, who would rather he hlind 
than one-eyed ! However, there is no accounting for 
tastes ; there ! " And he gave him a second piece of 
money. The postilion put it in the other eye, turned the 
carriage around, and set off on the road to Servas. 

The companion of Jehu waited until he was lost to 
sight in the obscurity, and then, putting to his mouth a 
drilled key, he drew from it a prolonged and tremnling 
sound, like a boatswain's whistle. A similar sound re- 
plied to him, and at the same time, a rider came out 
from the woods, and approached at a gallop. At sight of 
the horseman, Morgan once more covered his face Avitli 
the mask. 

"In whose name do you come]" demanded the rider, 
whose face was completely shaded under the broad- 
brimmed hat that he w^ore. 

" In the name of the prophet Elisha," replied the young 
masked man. 

" Then you are the one I expect ; " and he dismounted. 
" Are you a prophet, or a disciple 1 " asked Morgan. 
"I am a disciple," replied the new-comer. 
" And your master, where is he 1 " 
"You will find him at the charter-house of Seillon." 
"Do you know how many companions are gathered 
there this evening 1 " 
" Twelve." 

" It is well ; if you meet any others, send them to the 
rendezvous.^' 

He who had called himself a disciple bowed in token 
of obedience, helped Morgan to attach his valise to his 
saddle, and held the horse by the bridle while the other 



MORGAN. 



81 



mounted. Without waiting for his second foot to find 
the stirrup, Morgan put spurs to his horse, which tore the 
bridle from the hands of the servant, and set off at a 
gallop. 

On the right hand extended the forest of Seillon, like 
a sea of shadows, whose gloomy waves undulated and 
moaned in the night wind. 

A quarter of a league beyond Sue, the rider turned his 
horse across country, and went towards the forest, which, 
in turn, seemed to advance upon him. The horse, guided 
by ail experienced hand, plunged into it without hesita- 
tion. At the end of ten minutes he reappeared upon the 
other side. A hundred paces from the forest there rose a 
sombre mass, standing alone in the midst of the plain. 
It was a building of massive architecture, shadowed by 
five or six trees of a century's growth. 

The horseman stopped before a great door, above 
which were placed statues of the Virgin Mary, of Christ, 
and of John the Baptist. That of the Virgin marked the 
central point of the arch. The mysterious traveller had 
arrived at the objective point of his journey, — the 
charter-house of Seillon. 

The charter-house of Seillon, the twenty-second of the 
Order, was founded in 1178. In 1672 a modern building 
had been substituted for the old monastery, ^nd the ruins 
of this latter edifice are all that are visible to-day. 

Tliese ruins are, on the exterior, the facade, of which 
we have spoken, which was ornamented with the three 
statues, and before ^Yhich the mysterious traveller had 
stopped ; and on the interior, a little chapel, whose 
entrance was at the right, beneath the great door. A 
peasant inhabits it now, with his wife and two children, 
and they have made a farm of the old monastery lands. 
In 1791 the monks were expelled from their convent ; in 

VOL. I. — 6 



82 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

1792 the convent itself and its dependencies had been 
offered for sale as ecclesiastical property. The dependencies 
were the park adjoining the buildings, and the beautiful 
forest which bears to this day the name of Seillon. 

But at Bourg, a town which was both royalist and 
religious, no one would risk compromising his soul by 
buying property which had belonged to the good monks 
whom every one venerated. The result was, therefore, 
that the convent, the park, and the forest had become, 
under the title of Goods of the State, the property of the 
Republic, or, which amounted to the same thing, the 
property of no one ; for the Republic in the last seven 
years had had far too much to think of to repair walls, 
cultivate an orchard, and keep a forest in order. 

For the last seven years, then, the monastery had been 
completely abandoned ; and there was grass growing in the 
court, brambles in the orchard, and underbrush in the 
forest, which, crossed as it was at that time by only one 
road and two or three paths, was otherwise, to all appear- 
ance at least, impassable. A kind of pavilion, named the 
Correrie, belonging to the charter-house, about an eighth 
of a league away from it, was close to the forest, which, 
profiting by the unrestrained liberty that it enjoyed, had 
covered it with a luxuriant growth, which had finally hid- 
den it completely from view. 

The strangest noises seemed to proceed from these two 
buildings ; they were said to be haunted by hosts which 
were invisible by day, but terrifying by night. Wood- 
cutters or belated peasants, who sometimes went to enjoy 
in the Republican forest the same privileges which had 
been theirs in the time of the monks, reported to have 
seen, through cracks in the closed shutters, lights which 
passed along the corridors and staircases, and to have 
distinctly heard the sound of chains dragging over the 



MORGAN. 



83 



flags of the cloisters and the pavements of the courts 
The strouger-minded among the people denied these 
things ; but among the credulous ones there were two 
theories concerning the frightful noises and the nocturnal 
sights. The patriots affirmed that these were the souls of 
the poor monks whom the tyranny of the cloisters had 
buried alive, and who, returning to call down the ven- 
geance of heaven upon their persecutors, dragged about 
with them after death the chains with which they had 
been loaded while alive. The royalists said that it was 
the devil in person, who, finding an empty convent, and 
having no reason to fear the holy water of the reverend 
inmates, had quietly come to enjoy himself where formerly 
he had not dared to put so much as one of his claws. 

But there was just one reason why the uncertainty 
never abated ; and that was that neither those who 
believed nor those who denied, neither those who took 
the part of the martyrs nor of Beelzebub, had the courage 
to venture within the shadows, and to come in the solemn 
hours of the night to assure themselves of the truth, in 
order to be able to report on the next day whether the 
charter-house were really haunted, and if so, what kind 
of ghosts inhabited it. 

But doubtless all these reports, whether with or with- 
out foundation, had no effect upon the mysterious cava- 
lier j for, as we have said, although the clocks of Bourg 
had struck nine, and it was therefore fully night, he 
stopped his horse at the door of the abandoned monastery, 
and without dismounting, drew a pistol and struck three 
measured blows upon the door with it, after the manner 
of free-masons. Then he listened. For a moment he 
doubted whether there was a meeting at the charter- 
house ; for although he looked and listened attentively, he 
could neither see nor hear anything. However, he , 



8-1: THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

fancied that a cautious step approached the door. He 
knocked a second time, in the same manner. 

" Who is there 1 " asked a voice. 

" One who comes from Ehsha/* replied the traveller. 

"What king is it whom the sons of Isaac must 
obey 1 '* 

" Jehu." 

" What house must they exterminate 1 
"That of Ahab." 

" Are you a prophet or a disciple 1 " 
" I am a prophet." 

"Then you are welcome to the house of the Lord/' 
said the voice. 

At once the iron bars which secured the massive mon- 
astery door, turned, the locks grated harshly, one of the 
leaves of the double door opened silently, and horse and 
rider disappeared within the gloomy opening which closed 
behind them. He who had opened the door so reluc- 
tantly, and shut it again so quickly, was dressed in the 
long white robe of the monks, and the hood, falling over 
his face, entirely concealed his features. 



THE MONASTERY OF SEILLON. 



85 



CHAPTER YII. 

THE MONASTERY OF SEILLON. 

Doubtless, like that member of the association whom the 
traveller had met on the road to Sue, the monk who had 
opened the door only occupied a secondary rank in the 
brotherhood ; for taking the bridle of the horse, he held 
him while the rider dismounted, thus acting as a groom 
for the young man. 

Morgan dismounted, took his valise, drew the pistols 
from their places in the saddle and stuck them in his belt 
beside those which were already there ; and then, address- 
ing the monk in a tone of command, he said, — 

" I thought to find the brothers assembled in council." 

" They are assembled," replied the monk. 

" Where are they 1 " 

" In the Correrie. For the last few days suspicious 
persons have been seen roaming about the monastery, and 
the greatest precautions have been ordered." 

The young man shrugged his shoulders, as though he 
deemed the precautions useless ; and then, still in the 
same tone of command, he said, " Have the horse taken to 
the stable, and conduct me to the council." 

The monk called another brother, to whom he threw 
the horse's bridle ; and then taking a torch, which he 
lighted at a lamp which was burning in the little chapel at 
the right of the great door, he walked before the new 
arrival. He crossed the cloister, took a few steps in the 
garden, opened a door leading to a kind of pit, or cistern. 



86 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



motioned to Morgan to enter, shut the dbor of the cistern 
as carefullj as he had closed that of the monastery, pushed 
with his foot a stone which seemed to be lying there by 
chance, and disclosed a ring, with which he raised a flag- 
stone, thereby revealing the entrance to a subterranean 
passage, which they traversed for a short distance. They 
went down some steps, which conducted them to a vaulted 
passage wide enough for two men to go abreast. They 
walked thus for five or six minutes, after which they 
found themselves face to face with an iron gate or grating. 
The monk drew a key from beneath his robe and opened 
it. Then, when they had both passed through, and it 
was locked behind them, the monk asked, — 
By what name shall I announce you 1 " 

" By the name of brother Morgan." 

" Wait here. I will return in five minutes." 

The young man bowed his head, in token that he was 
familiar with all these precautions. Then he seated him- 
self upon a tomb, — for they were in the burial place of 
the convent, — and waited. Scarcely five minutes had 
slipped away before the monk reappeared. 

"Follow me," he said. "The brothers are glad that 
you are here. They feared that some ill had befallen 

you." 

A few seconds later brother Morgan was introduced 
into the council chamber. Twelve monks awaited him, 
with their hoods drawn down over their eyes ; but as 
soon as the door had shut behind him, and the ser\ang 
brother had disappeared, Morgan took off his mask, and 
at the same time each monk uncovered his face. 

Never had handsomer young men taken part in any 
gathering. Only two or three among these strange monks 
had attained the age of forty years. All hands were ex- 
tended towards ]\rorgan, and he was welcomed on every 
side. 



THE MONASTERY OF SEILLON. 



87 



" Upon my word," said one of those who had welcomed 
him most effusively, " you have taken a great load off 
our hearts. We certainly thought you dead, or else a 
prisoner." 

" Dead 1 might have heen, Amiet ; but a prisoner, no, — 
citizen, as they still say sometimes, but as I hope they 
will soon cease to do. Well, everything went off with 
the greatest friendliness. As soon as they saw us, the 
conductor cried to the postilion to stop. I even thought 
I heard him add, ' I know who it is.' ^ Then/ I said to 
him, ' if you know who it is, my friend, we need enter 
into no long explanations.' ' The government money 1 ' 
he asked. 'Exactly/ I replied. Then as he was making 
a great stir in the carriage, I added, * See here, my friend ! 
before you do anything else, get down and tell these per- 
sons, especially the ladies that we are well-bred men, 
who will not touch them, and that we will not even look 
at them unless they put their heads out of the window.' 
One of them risked it ; and upon my word she was 
charming. I threw a little kiss to her. She gave a little 
cry, and took refuge inside the carriage, for all the world 
like Galatea ; but, as there were no willow-trees, I did 
not follow her. During all this time the conductor had 
been rummaging in his box in such haste, that when he 
gave me the government money he handed me with it 
two hundred louis belonging to a poor wine-merchant of 
Bordeaux." 

" Oh, the devil ! " exclaimed the one who had been 
called Amiet, — which name, like Morgan, was probably 
only a nom de guerre, — what a pity that was ! You 
know that the Directory is always trying to prove that 
we are nothing but common thieves." 

Now, wait ! " said Morgan ; that is just what kept 
me. I had heard something of the sort at Lyons, and I 



88 



THE CO^IPAXIONS OF JEHU. 



was half way on the road to Valence when I discovered 
the error in etiquette. There was no difficulty in making 
the discovery j for printed on the sack, as if the good 
man had had a presentiment of what would happen, were 
the words. 'Jean Picot, wine-merchant, of Fronsac, near 
Bordeaux.' " 

" And you sent his money back to him 

" I did better, — I carried it back to him." 
To Tronsac ] " 

" Oh, no ; but to Avignon. I suspected that such a 
careful man would stop at the first town of any impor- 
tance, to give information concerning his two hundred 
louis. I was not mistaken. I asked at the hotel if any 
one knew citizen Jean Picot. They replied that he was 
not only known there, but was at that very moment din- 
ing at the table d'hote. I went in. You can easily guess 
that the subject of their conversation was the stopping of 
the diligence. Imagine the effect of my apparition ! The 
old god descending in his machine would not have been 
more unexpected. I asked which of the guests was called 
Jean Picot. The owner of this distinguished and harmo- 
nious name was pointed out to me ; T placed his two hun- 
dred louis before him, and made my excuses, in the name 
of the Society, for the uneasiness which the companions 
of Jehu had caused him. I exchanged a sign of friend- 
sliip with Barjols, and a polite greeting with the Abbe de 
Rians, who was there. I made my bow to the company, 
and came away. It was only a trifle, but it took me 
nearly fifteen hours ; but I thought that it was better to 
be late than to leave any false opinion of us. Have I 
done well, my masters 1 " 

There was great applause. " Only," said one of the 
company, " I think you were very imprudent to take the 
money back yourself." 



THE MONASTERY OF SEILLON. 



89 



"My dear colonel," returned the young man, "tliere is 
a proverb of Italian origin, which says : ' He who wills, 
goes ; he who wills not, sends.' I wanted to go, and I 
went." 

"And found a fellow who, to thank you, if you ever 
have the bad luck to fall into the hands of the Directory, 
will be the first to recognize you, — a recognition which 
may result in having your throat cut." 

" Oh, I will defy him to recognize me." 
What will prevent him 

" Do you suppose that I go about with my face un- 
covered 1 You don't know me, my dear colonel. To put 
aside my mask is all very well among friends, but with 
strangers it is another matter. Are we not in the midst 
of the carnival 1 Why should I not disguise myself as 
Abellino or Karl Moor, when Messieurs Gohier, Sieyes, 
Eoger Ducos, Moulin, and Barras are going about dis- 
guised as kings of France ? " 

" Then you entered the city masked ? " 

" The city, the hotel, and the dining-room. It is true 
that although my face was covered, my belt was in plain 
sight, and, as you see, it was well filled." 

The young man drew back his cloak, and showed his 
belt, in which were stuck four pistols, and from which 
hung a hunting-knife. Then, with the gayety which 
seemed to be one of the chief characteristics of his organi- 
zation, he added, — 

"I must have looked ferocious, don't you think so? 
They might have mistaken me for the late Mandrin, 
coming down from the mountains of Savoy. By the way, 
here are the sixty thousand francs belonging to his High- 
ness the Directory." 

And the young man spurned with his foot the valise 
which he had put upon the ground, whose bulging sides 



90 



THE CO^IPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



gave fortli a metallic sound whicti indicated tlie presence 
of gold. Then he mingled with his friends, from whom 
he had been separated by that distance which naturally 
arises between a speaker and his audience. 

One of the monks stooped and picked up the valise. 
"Despise the gold if you will, my dear Morgan, since 
you do not refuse to gather it for us ; but I know some 
line fellows who are looking with as much impatience 
and anxiety for the gold that you put under your feet, 
as ever a caravan in the desert watched for the water 
which would save it from perishing of thirst." 

" I suppose you mean our friends in la Vendee," re- 
joined Morgan; "much good may it do them! Selfish 
fellows I they are fighting. They have chosen the roses 
and given us the thorns. But have they received nothing 
from England ] " 

Yes, indeed," said one of the monks, gayly ; ^' at 
Quiberon they received both bullets and shells." 

"I did not say from the English, " returned Morgan ; 
" I said from England." 

" Not a sou." 

" It seems to me, though," said another, who apparently 
possessed a cooler head than his companions, " that our 
princes might send a little money to those who are shed- 
ding their blood for the cause of the monarchy. Do they 
not fear that la Vendee will weary at length, some day or 
other, of a devotion which has thus far received not even 
a ^ thank you'?" 

" La Vendee, my friend," said Morgan, is a generous 
land, and you may be sure it will not grow weary ; be- 
sides, where would be the merit of fidelity if it did not 
meet with ingratitude 1 As soon as devotion meets with 
gratitude, it becomes devotion no longer ; it is exchange, 
since it meets with recompense. Let us always be as 



THE MONASTERY OF SEILLON. 



91 



faithful and devoted as possible, gentlemen j and let us 
pray Heaven to make ingrates of those to whom we de- 
vote ourselves ; and then, take my word for it, we shall 
win an enviable name in the history of our civil wars." 

Scarcely had Morgan finished formulating this chival- 
rous maxim, and expressing a wish which had every 
chance of being fulfilled, when three masonic blows re- 
sounded upon the same door at which he had entered. 

'•' Gentlemen," said the monk who seemed to hold the 
rank of president, " your hoods and masks, quickly I We 
do not know who is coming." 



92 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

THE DIEECTOEY's MONEY. 

Each one hastened to obey, the monks pulling the 
hoods of their long robes over their faces, and Morgan ad- 
justing his mask. 

" Come in ! " said the superior. 

The door opened, and the serving friar appeared. " A 
messenger from General Georges Cadoudal demands an 
audience," he said. 

" Has he replied to the three words of the order? '* 

" Perfectly." 

"Let him enter." 

The serving friar returned to the subterranean passage, 
to reappear again almost immediately with a man who, by 
his costume, was easily recognized as a peasant, and by his 
square head with its shock of red hair as a Breton. He 
advanced to the middle of the circle without seeming to 
be at all disturbed, fixing his eyes in turn upon each of the 
monks, and waiting until one of the twelve granite stat- 
ues should break the silence. 

The president spoke first. "From whom do you 
come 1 " he asked. 

" He who sent me," replied the peasant, " bade me, if 
I was asked, to say that I came from Jehu." 

"Are you the bearer of a written or of a verbal 
message ? " 

" I am to reply to the questions which you will ask me, 
and to exchange a slip of paper for the money." 

" Very well ; we will begin with the questions : What 
are our brothers doing in la Vendee 1 " 



THE directory's MONEY. 



93 



" They have laid down their arms, and are only waiting 
a word from you to take them up again." 

" And why have they laid down their arms 1 " 
Because they received an order from his Majesty Louis 
XVIIL to do so." 

" We have heard of a proclamation written by the king's 
own hand." 

" Here is a copy of it." 

The peasant handed a paper to his questioner. The 
latter opened it, and read : — 

War only serves to render royalty odious. Monarchs who 
have gained their thrones by its means are never beloved ; 
such means must therefore be abandoned, to be replaced by the 
empire of opinions, which will return of themselves to saving 
principles. " God and the King " will soon be the rallying 
cry of the French ; we must reunite in a formidable sheaf the 
scattered elements of royalty, abandon la Yendee militant to 
its unhappy destiny, and walk in a path at once more pacific 
and less incoherent. The royalists of the West have had their 
time ; now we must rely upon those of Paris, who have every- 
thing prepared for a speedy restoration. 

The president raised his head, and seeking out Morgan 
with an eye whose flashing could not be concealed, even 
by the monk's hood, he said : " Well, brother, here is 
your wish already accomplished ; the royalists of la Ven- 
dee and the South will have all the merit of their devo- 
tion." Then, looking once more at the proclamation, of 
which there remained yet a few lines, he continued : — 

The Jews crucified their king, and from that time they have 
been wanderers on the face of the earth ; the French guillotined 
theirs, and they will be dispersed and scattered. 

Dated at Blankenbourg, August 25, 1799, the day of our 
fete, the sixth of our reign. 

(Signed) Louis. 



94 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHp. 



The young men looked at one another. 

" Quos viilt perdere Jupiter dementat ! " said Morgan. 

"Yes," said the president; "but when those whom 
Jupiter wishes to destroy represent a principle, they must 
be sustained, — not only against J upiter, but against 
themselves. Ajax in the midst of the thunder and light- 
ning clung to a rock, and raising to heaven his clenched 
fist, said, ' I will escape in spite of the gods.' " Then, 
turning to Cadoudal's messenger, he asked, " And what 
answer did he who sent you return to this proclamation ? " 

" Very nearly what you have just replied yourself. He 
told me to come and see you, and find out from you 
whether you were determined to continue in spite of all, 
in spite of the king himself." 

" We are decided," said the president. 

"Very well, then," said the peasant. "Here are the 
real names of the new chiefs and their assumed ones ; the 
general recommends that you use the assumed ones as 
much as possible in your correspondence, and he will take 
the same precautions in speaking of you." 

" Have you the list ] " asked the president. 

" No ; I might have been captured, and then the list 
would have been taken. Write, and I will dictate." 

The president seated himself at a table, took a pen, and 
wrote at the dictation of the Yendeean peasant the follow- 
ing names : — 

" Georges Cadoudal, Jehu or Eound-head ; Joseph Cad- 
oudal, Judas Maccabeus ; Lahaye Saint-Hilaire, David ; 
Burban-Malabr}'-, Death-defier ; Poulpiquez, Royal-carnage ; 
Bonfils, Break-barrier ; Danipherne, Piquevers ; Duch- 
ayla, the Crown ; Duparc, the Terrible ; La Eoche, Mithri- 
dates ; Puisaye, Jean the Blond." 

" Those are the successors of Charette, Stofflet, Cathelin- 
eau, D'Elbee, La Rocliejaquelein, and Lescure," said a voice. 



THE directory's MONEY. 



95 



The Breton turnBcl in the direction of the voice. " If 
they get themselves killed, like their predecessors," he 
said, " what more can you ask of them 1 " 

" Well answered," said Morgan ; " and so — " 

" And so," replied the peasant, " as soon as onr general 
receives your reply, he will take up arms' again." 

" And if our reply had been in the negative 1 " asked a 
voice. 

" So much the worse for you," replied the peasant ; "in 
any case, the insurrection was fixed for the 20th of October." 

" Well," said the president, " thanks to us, the general 
will have enough money for the first month. Where is 
your receipt?" 

" Here it is," said the peasant, drawing from his pocket 
a paper on which were written these w^ords : — 

Eeceived from our brothers of the South and East, to be 

used for the good of the cause, the sum of • 

Georges Cadoudal, 
General-in- chief of the Royalist Army of Bretagne. 

As will be seen, the sum was omitted. 
" Can you write'? " asked the president. 
" Enough to fill in the three or four words that are 
required." 

" Well, then, write ' One hundred thousand francs.' " 
The Breton wrote ; then holding out the paper to the 

president he said, " Here is the receipt ; now, where is 

the money 1 " 

" Stoop down and pick up that bag which is at your 
feet ; it contains sixty thousand francs." Then, address- 
ing one of the monks, he asked, ^'Montbar, where are 
the other forty thousand?" 

The monk opened a closet, and drew forth a bag a little 
smaller than the one which Morgan had brought, but 



96 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

which nevertheless contained the round sum of forty- 
thousand francs. " Here is the whole sum," said the 
monk. 

" And now, my friend," said the president, " eat and 
rest; to-morrow you shall go," 

"They expect me yonder," replied the Yend^ean; "I 
will eat and sleep on my horse. Farewell, gentlemen ; 
may Heaven keep you ! " And he moved towards the 
door by which he had entered. 

" Wait ! " said Morgan. 

The messenger paused. 

" News for news," said Morgan. Tell General Cad- 
oudal that General Bonaparte has left the Egyptian army ; 
that he landed at Frejus day before yesterday, and that he 
will be at Paris in three days. My news is worth as 
much as yours, don't you think so 1 " 

" Impossible ! " cried all the monks, as if with one 
voice. 

"Nothing is truer, however, gentlemen. I got the 
news from our friend the priest, who saw him changing 
horses an hour before me at Lyons, and recognized 
him." 

"What has he come to France fori" asked two or 
three voices. 

" We shall know soon enough," replied Morgan. "We 
may be sure that he has not come for the purpose of 
remaining incognito^' 

" Do not lose an instant in carrying this news to our 
brothers in the West," said the president to the Yendeean 
peasant. " J ust now I tried to keep you ; now I say to 
you, Go 1 " 

The peasant bowed and went ; the president waited 
until the door had shut. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " the news which brother Mor- 



THE DIRECTORY'S MONEY. 



97 



gan has just brought is of so grave a nature that I have a 
special measure to propose." 

" What is it ] " they all asked, as with one voice. 

"It is that one of us, chosen by lot, shall go to 
Paris, and with the cipher keep us informed of all that 
passes." 

" It is adopted," they rejoined. 

" In that case," replied the president, " let each one 
write his own name upon a piece of paper ; we will put 
them in a hat, and he whose name is drawn will instantly 
start for Paris." 

The young men, as with one movement, approached the 
table, wrote the thirteen names, each one his own, on the 
pieces of paper which were tossed to them, and put them 
in a hat. The youngest was called to draw the chosen 
name. He drew out one of the rolls of paper and passed 
it to the president, who unfolded it. 
Morgan ! " said the president. 

" My instructions'? " asked the young man. 
Remember," replied the president, with a solemnity 
to which the vaulted roof of the cloisters lent a supreme 
grandeur, "that you are the Baron of Sainte-Hermine 
that your father was guillotined on the Place de la Revolu- 
tion ; and that your brother was killed in Conde's army. 
Rohlesse oblige ! Those are your instructions." 

" And for the resf? " asked the young man. 

" For the rest," said the president, " we trust to your 
devotion to royalty, and to your loyalty." 

" Then, my friends, permit me to take my leave of 
you at once. I must be on the road to Paris before 
light, and there is a visit which I must make before I 
start." 

" Go ! " said the president, opening his arms. " Let me 
embrace you in the name of all the brethren. To another 

VOL. I. — 7 



98 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



I should say, ' Be hrave, persevering, active ! ' to you I 
say, ^ Be prudent.' " 

The young man received the fraternal embrace, saluted 
his other friends with a smile, exchanged a hand-clasp 
with two or three of tl)em, wrapped his cloak about him, 
pulled his hat over his eyes, and departed. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



99 



CHAPTER IX. 

ROMEO AND JULIET. 

In expectation of a speedy departure, Morgan's horse, 
after having been bathed, rubbed down, and dried, had 
received a double ration of oats, and had been saddled and 
bridled anew. The young man had therefore only to ask 
for him, and leap upon his back. Scarcely was he in the 
saddle when the gate opened as if by magic ; the horse 
darted out neighing, as if he had forgotten his first run 
and was ready for a second. 

At the door of the charter-house Morgan remained 
undecided for a moment, as if doubting whether to turn 
to the right or left ; finally he turned to the right, fol- 
lowed for a moment the path which leads from Bourg to 
Seillon, turned once more to the right, but this time 
across country, plunged into an angle of forest which he 
met on his way, reappeared soon on the other side of 
the wood, gained the high-road from Pont d'Ain, followed 
it for the space of a half league or more, and did not 
stop until he reached a group of houses which are called 
to-day the Maison-des-Gardes. One of these houses bore 
for a sign a bunch of holly, which indicated one of those 
places where pedestrians turn aside and rest for a brief 
space, before continuing the long and fatiguing journey 
of life. 

As he had done at the door of the charter-house, Mor- 
gan stopped, drew a pistol from its resting-place, and used 



100 



THE CO^IPANIOXS OF JEHU. 



it for a hammer ; but as in all probability the worthy 
people -ft'ho inhabited the humble inn were not engaged 
in any conspiracy, the response to the traveller's appeal 
was longer in coming than at the monastery. At length 
the step of the stable-boy might be heard, his sabots 
clicking heavily ; the door creaked, and the man who 
had opened it, seeing a cavalier holding a pistol in his 
hand, began iustinctively to shut it again. 

It is I, Pataut," said the young man ; " don't be 
afraid." 

''Ah, that's a fact," said the peasant; "so it is you, 
Monsieur Charles? Ah, T am no longer afraid; but you 
know, as the cure said of the times when the good God 
was upon earth, ' Precaution is the mother of safety.' " 

" Yes, Pataut, yes," said the young man, dismounting, 
and slipping a piece of silver into the hand of the stable- 
boy ; " but don't worry ; the good God will come again, 
and for that matter so will Monsieur le Cure." 

"Oh, as for that," said the man, "it is easy to see that 
there is no one yonder, according to the way things are 
going. "Will it last long like this. Monsieur Charles 1 " 

" Pataut, I promise you on my word of honor to do 
my best not to let you get impatient. I am in as much 
of a hurry as you ; and so I beg of you not to go to bed, 
my good Pataut." 

" Ah, you know very well, Monsieur, that when you 
come I do not go to bed ; and as for your horse — do you 
change your horse every day 1 Time before last you had 
a chestnut ; last time it was a gray ; and now it is a 
black." 

"Yes, I am capricious by nature. As for the horse, he 
needs nothing except to have his bridle taken off; you 
may leave the saddle on him. Wait ! put this pistol back 
in its place, and keep these two for me.'' 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



101 



*' Good ! " said the man, laughing. " Plenty of 
barkers." 

" You know, Pataut, they say the roads are not safe." 

" Safe ! I should think not ! Why, Monsieur Charles, 
they are fairly swarming witli brigands. No later than 
last week they stopped and robbed the diligence from 
Geneva to Bourg." 

" Bah ! " said Morgan. " And whom do they accuse 
of it 1 

Oh, that is nothing but a farce. Just imagine ! they 
say that it was the companions of Jesus ! 1 did not 
believe a word of it, you may be sure ; for who are the 
companions of Jesus if not the twelve apostles 1 " 

" Who indeed 1 rejoined Morgan, with his joyous 
smile. 

The idea," continued Pataut, " of accusing the twelve 
apostles of robbing a diligence ! That is a little too 
much ! Oh, I tell you. Monsieur Charles, we live in 
times when nothing is respected." And shaking his 
head like a man who is disgusted, if not with life, at 
least with men, Pataut led the horse off to the stable. 

As for Morgan, he watched Pataut as he disappeared in 
the shadows ; then turning past the hedge which sur- 
rounded the garden, he descended towards a large clump 
of trees, whose high summits stood out against the night 
with the majesty of motionless things, shadowing a 
charming little country-seat, which was called in the 
neighborhood by the imposing title of the Chateau of 
Noires-Fontaines. As Morgan reached the wall of the 
chateau, the clock in the village of Montagnac struck 
the hour. The young man listened to the tones as they 
vibrated through the calm and silent atmosphere of the 
autumn night, and counted eleven strokes. As every 
one knows, much can happen in two hours. Morgan 



102 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



took a few steps, examiued the wall, and seemed to seek 
for some well-known spot ; then, having found it, he put 
the point of his boot in a crevice between the stones, 
leaped, like a man who mounts his horse, seized the 
coping of the wall with his left hand, with a second leap 
sat astride the wall, and as swift as lightning dropped 
down upon the other side. All had been done with so 
much rapidity, skill, and lightness, that if any one had 
been passing at the moment he would have beheved 
himself to be the sport of imagination. 

Morgan paused and listened on this side of the wall, as 
he had done on the other, at the same time probing with 
his eyes, as far as the thick shadows cast by the aspens 
and poplars would permit, the depths of the little wood. 
All was solitary and silent. Morgan ventured to continue 
on his way. We say ventured, because ever since he had 
approached the Chateau of iJsoires-Fontaines there had 
been in every act of the young man a timidity and hesi- 
tation so foreign to his character that it was evident that 
if he felt fear, it was not for himself. He gained the 
edge of the woods, still taking the same precautions. 
When he had reached a little lawn, at the farther ex- 
tremity of which rose the chateau, he stopped, and 
attentively examined the facade of the house. 

Of the twelve windows which on the three floors 
pierced this facade, but a single one was lighted. It was 
on the first floor, at the angle of the house. A little 
balcony entirely covered with vines, which climbed along 
the wall, rolled themselves around the iron scroll-work, 
and fell back again in festoons, projected from this 
window, and overlooked the garden. At the two sides 
of the window, placed upon the balcony itself, large- 
leaved trees grew in boxes, and formed above the cornice 
a veritable bower of verdure. A blind, which could be 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



103 



drawn up and down with cords, separated the balcony 
from the window, forming a screen which could be re- 
moved at will. It was through the chinks in the blind 
that Morgan had seen the light. 

The first impulse of the young man was to go straight 
across the lawn ; but here again the fears of which we 
have spoken seemed to restrain him. A linden walk 
skirted the wall, and led to the house. He made a 
detour, and disappeared within the leafy shadow. Then, 
when he had reached the end of the walk, he crossed the 
open space as swiftly as a frightened doe, and found 
himself at the foot of the wall, in the thick shadow made 
by the house. He drew back several steps, with his eyes 
fixed upon the window, being careful to keep within the 
shadow. Then, when he had reached the required spot, 
he clapped his hands three times. 

At this, a shadow appeared from the depths of the 
apartment, and came, graceful, flexible, almost trans- 
parent, to outline itself against the window. Morgan 
repeated the signal. Instantly the window opened, the 
blind was pulled up, and a beautiful young girl in a 
dressing-gown, with her blond hair flowing over her 
shoulders, appeared in the midst of the verdure. 

The young man extended his arms to the arms that 
were held out to him, and two names, or rather two 
exclamations leaping from the heart, crossed each other, 
both sounding at the same time. 
Charles ! " 

" Amelie ! " 

Then the young man leaped upon the wall, clinging to 
the stems of the vines, to the rough places in the stones, 
and to the projections in the carvings, and in a second was 
upon the balcony. What they said to each other then 
was only a murmur of love, lost in an interminable kiss. 



104 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

But with gentle force the young man drew his companion 
within the room, while with his other arm he loosened 
the cords of the blind, which fell noisily behind them. 
Behind the blind the window closed. Then the light was 
extinguished, and the fagade of the Chateau of Noires- 
Fontaines was in obscurity. 

This obscurity had lasted for perhaps a quarter of an 
hour, when there came the rolling of a carriage over the 
road leading from the highway from Pont d'Ain to the 
entrance of the chateau. Then the noise ceased. The 
carriage had stopped before the gate. 



EOLAND'S FAMILY. 



105 



CHAPTEE X. 

Roland's family. 

The carriage which had stopped at the cnateau con- 
tained Roland and his friend Sir John. So little were 
they expected, that, as we have said, all the lights 
were ont, even that of Amelie's room. The postilion for 
the last five hundred steps had cracked his whip with all 
his might, but even that had failed to arouse the country 
people from their first slumber. 

When the carriage stopped, Eoland sprang from it, 
without touching the step, and rang the bell. This lasted 
for five minutes, during which, after each pull at the bell, 
Roland went back to the carriage to say, " Do not get 
impatient, Sir John." 

Finally a window was opened, and a childish but 
determined voice cried out, " Who is ringing like that 1 " 

"Ah, is it you, Edward 1" said Eoland. Open the 
door quickly." 

The boy drew back with a joyous cry and disappeared ; 
but his voice could be heard calling through the 
corridors, — 

"Mother! awake ! it is Roland ! Sister! wake up ! it 
is our big brother ! " Then, only partly dressed, he 
rushed down the stairs, crjnng, " Don't be impatient, 
Eoland ! Here I am ! here I am ! " 

An instant later the key turned in the lock, and the 
bolts slipped back ; then a little form appeared upon the 



106 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



step, and flew rather than ran towards the gate, which a 
moment after turned upon its hinges and opened. The 
child leaped upon Eoland's neck and hung there. 

" Oh, brother ! brother ! he exclaimed, embracing the 
young man, and laughing and crying at the same time ; 
" oh, brother Koland, how happy Mamma will be ! and 
ilmelie too ! Everybody is well. I am the sickest of 
the lot — oh, except Michel, you know, the gardener, 
who has sprained himself. Why are you not in soldier's 
clothes 1 You look so ugly when 3^ou are dressed like a 
citizen. You have just come from Egypt j have you 
brought me some pistols mounted in silver, and a beauti- 
ful curved sabre 1 No? Oh, then you are naughty, 
and I will not kiss you any more. But no, no, don't be 
afraid; I love you just the same ! " 

And the boy covered his brother with kisses, while he 
overwhelmed him with questions. The Englishman, who 
had not left the carriage, watched it all through the door, 
and smiled. 

In the midst of these fraternal embraces a woman's 
voice was heard, — the mother's voice ! 

" Oh, is it my Eoland, my beloved son ? " exclaimed 
Mme. de Montrevel, in accents so full of joy that they 
were almost painful. "Where is he? Is it true that he 
has come ? Is it true that he is not a prisoner, not dead ? 
Is it true that he is alive ? " 

The child at the sound of this voice slipped from 
Eoland's arms, alighted on his feet upon the grass, and 
sprang towards his mother. "This way, Mother! this 
way ! " he called, dragging his mother towards Eolaud. 

At the sight of his mother, Eoland could contain him- 
self no longer. The ice which had frozen in his breast 
seemed to melt ; his heart beat like that of any one else. 
'^Ah," he cried, "I was certainly ungrateful to God, 



ROLAND'S FAMILY. 



107 



when life can give me such joys ! " And he threw him- 
self sobbing upon Mme. de Montrevel's neck, entirely 
forgetting Sir John, who on his own part, felt his 
Anglican phlegm disappearing, as he silently wiped away 
the tears which ran down over his cheeks and mingled 
with his smile. The child, the mother, and Eoland 
formed an adorable group of tenderness and emotion. 

Suddenly Edward, like a leaf blown by the wind, 
detached himself from the group, crying, Where can 
Am^lie be ? " Then he ran towards the house, calling, 
" Sister Amelie ! awake ! get up ! hurry ! " 

Then they could hear him kicking and striking 
against a door. There was silence for a moment. Pre- 
sently they heard Edward exclaim, — 

" Help, Mamma ! help, brother Roland ! Amelie is 
ill ! " 

Mme. de Montrevel and her son hastened into the 
house. Sir John, who, like the finished tourist that he 
was, always carried a case of surgical instruments and 
a flask of salts, got out of the carriage, and obeying his 
first impulse, advanced as far as the doorstep. There he 
paused, remembering that he had not received an 
introduction, — that all-powerful formality with an 
Englishman. 

But just at that moment that which he was seeking 
came to him. The noise which her brother had made at 
her door had finally brought Amelie to the landing ; but 
doubtless her agitation at Roland's return had been too 
great, for after having descended a few steps almost 
mechanically, and as if making a violent effort to com- 
mand herself, she had uttered a sigh, and like a drooping 
flower, an overweiglited branch, or a floating scarf, she 
fell, or rather drifted down, upon the staircase. 

It was then that the child cried out. But at the boy's 



108 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



cry Amelie recovered, if not her strength, at least her will- 
power. She stood erect, and stammering, " Be still, 
Edward ! be still, in the name of Heaven ! I am all 
right ! " she caught hold of the banister with one hand, 
and leaning upon the child with the other, she continued 
to descend the stairs. On the last step she met her 
mother and brother ; Avith a violent, almost despairing 
movement, she threw her arms around Roland's neck, 
crying, Brother ! brother!" 

Then Eoland felt that she leaned more heavily upon 
his shoulder, and saying, " She is ill ; let her have more 
air ! " he drew her towards the door. 

The group that was now before Sir John's eyes was 
very different from the other. As she breathed the fresh 
air, Amelie sighed and lifted up her head. Just then the 
moon appeared in all its splendor from behind a cloud 
which had veiled it, and lighted Amelie's face, which was 
as pale as its own. 

Sir John uttered a cry of admiration. Never had he 
seen marble statue so perfect as the living marble be- 
neath his eyes. Amelie was indeed marvellously beauti- 
ful. Dressed in a long cambric wrapper, which outlined 
a form moulded after that of a goddess ; her face pale, 
and slightly drooping over her brother's shoulder ; her 
long golden hair falling over snowy shoulders ; her arm 
thrown around her mother's neck, and her hand, like 
tinted alabaster, hanging over the red shawl in which 
Mme. de Montrevel was wrapped, — it was thus that 
Roland's sister appeared to Sir John. 

At the cry of admiration which escaped the English- 
man's lips, Roland remembered that he was there, and 
Mme. de Montrevel also perceived his presence. As for 
the child, astonished at seeing a stranger in his mother's 
house, he rapidly descended the steps, and pausing upon 



ROLAND'S FAMILY. 



109 



the third from the bottom, not "because he feared to go 
farther, but because he was thus upon a level with the 
other, he said, — 

" Who are you, sir, and what are you doing here ? " 

" My dear Edward," replied Sir John, " I am your 
brother's friend ; and I have brought you the silver- 
mounted pistols and the Damascus sword for which you 
asked just now." 

" Where are they 1 " asked the boy. 

" Ah," said Sir John, " they are in England, and it 
will take some time to get them here ; but your big 
brother there will answer for me, and tell you that I am 
a man of my word." 

" Yes, Edward, yes," said Roland ; " if my lord has 
promised them to you they are as good as yours." Then 
addressing Mme. de Montrevel and his sister, he added, — 

"Excuse me, mother; I beg your pardon, Amelie, — 
or rather you must both make your excuses to my lord as 
best you can, for having made me abominably ungrateful." 
Then going to Sir John, and taking him by the hand, he 
continued : " Mother, my lord found opportunity, the 
first time he ever saw me, to do me a great service ; I 
know you never forget such things, and I hope therefore 
that you will always remember that Sir John is one of 
your best friends. He will give you a proof of it when he 
confirms my statement that he has consented to bore him- 
self for two or three weeks with us here." 

"Madame," said Sir John, "permit me, instead of 
repeating my friend Roland's statement, to say that I 
should like to spend, not two or three weeks, but rather 
my entire life, with you here." 

Mme. de Montrevel descended the steps, and held out 
to Sir John a hand, which he kissed with true French 
gallantry. "My lord," she said, "the house is yours; 



110 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



the day of your arrival is a day of lejoiciDg, and tlie 
day when you take your departure will be a day of 
mourning." 

Sir John turned to Amelie, who, confused at having 
appeared in neglige before a stranger, was drawing the 
folds of her wrapper about her neck. 

" I speak to you in my daughter's name as well as my 
own," added Mme. de Montrevel, coming to Amelie's aid. 
" She is too much overcome just now by her brother's 
unexpected return to welcome you as she will do later." 

" Sister," said Roland, " if you will permit Sir John to 
kiss your hand, he will, I am sure, accept that as a 
welcome from you." 

Amelie stammered a few words, and slowly raising her 
arm, gave her hand to Sir John with a smile that was 
almost mournful. 

The Englishman took her hand, but finding it as cold 
as ice, instead of kissing it, said : " Roland, your sister is 
really ill ; we must think only of her health. I am some- 
thing of a physician, and if, instead of the favor which 
she was about to grant me, she will allow me to feel her 
pulse, I will be equally grateful." 

Eut as if she feared lest they should discover the cause 
of her illness, Amelie hastily drew her hand away, saying : 
" Xo, my lord is mistaken. Joy never makes any one ill ; 
and it is simply joy at my brother's unexpected return 
which caused the momentary indisposition that has already 
disappeared." Then turning towards Mme. de Montrevel, 
she added rapidly, almost feverishly : " Mamma, we forget 
that these gentlemen have just finished a long journey ; 
that they have probabh' had nothing to eat since they 
left Lyons : and that if Roland still has the good appetite 
that we remember so well, he will not refuse to allow you 
to do the honors of the house for him and my lord, while 



ROLAND'S FAMILY. 



Ill 



I occupy myself with more prosaic but equally necessary 
household duties." 

And leaving her mother, as she had said, to do the 
honors of the house, Amelie went to waken the servants, 
leaving upon Sir John's mind that sort of w^eird remem- 
brance which a tourist on the Ehine would feel if he 
should see an apparition of tlie Lorelei standing upon her 
rock, harp in hand, with the fluid gold of her hair float- 
ing upon the breezes of the night. 

While all this was passing, Morgan remounted his 
horse, galloped swiftly to the charter-house, stopped be- 
fore the door, drew a note-book from his pocket, and 
writing upon one of the leaves a few lines with his pencil, 
tore out the leaf, rolled it up, and pushed it through the 
key-hole, without taking time to dismount. Then putting 
spurs to his horse he disappeared in the forest. 

This was what he had written : — 

" Louis de Montrevel, aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte, 
arrived to-night at the Chateau of Noires- Fontaines. Take 
care of yourselves, Companions of Jehu!" 

But while he warned his friends to beware of Louis de 
Montrevel, Morgan had put a cross above his name, sig- 
nifying that, whatever happened, they were not to harm 
the young officer. Each companion of Jehu was at liberty 
to protect a friend, without giving his reasons for so 
doing. Morgan took advantage of this privilege to pro- 
tect the brother of his love. 



112 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE CHItEAU of NOIRES-FONTAINES. 

The chateau of Noires-Fontaines was situated in one of 
the most charming spots in the valley which contained the 
town of Bourg. Its grounds, five or six acres in extent, 
planted with trees of a century's growth, were enclosed 
on three sides by walls of brown sandstone, opened on the 
front by a gate of wrought iron, fashioned after the time 
and style of Louis XV. ; on the fourth side ran the little 
river Eeyssouse, a charming stream which has its source at 
Journaud, at the foot of the first steeps of the Juras, and 
which, flowing almost imperceptibly from south to north, 
empties into the Saone at the bridge of Fleurville, oppo- 
site Pont-de-Vaux, the country of Joubert, who, one 
month before the time of which we are writing, had been 
killed at the fatal battle of Novi. Beyond the Eeys- 
souse, and extending along its banks to the right and left 
of the Chateau of Noires-Fontaines, were the villages of 
Montagnat and Saint- Just, and the larger one of Ceyzeriat. 
Behind the latter town were outlined the graceful sil- 
houettes of the hills of the Juras, above whose crests 
could be distinguished the cloud-hke summits of the moun- 
tains of Bugey, which seemed to be peering curiously over 
the shoulders of their younger sisters at what went on in 
the valley of the Ain. 

It was in this delightful spot that Sir John awoke. For 
perhaps the first time in his life, the taciturn Englishman 



THE CHATEAU OF NOIRES-FONTATNES. 113 



smiled at the face of Nature ; he could imagine himself in 
one of those beautiful vallej^s of Thessaly, celebrated by 
Virgil, or near one of the gentle rivers of Lignon, of which 
D'Urfe sang. He was roused from his revery by three 
light taps upon his door ; his host, Roland, had come to 
see how he had passed the night. He found him as radi- 
ant as the sun, which was playing among the yellowing 
leaves of the chestnuts and lindens. 

" Ah, Sir John," he said, " permit me to congratulate you. 
I expected to see a man as sad as those poor monks in the 
long white robes who used to be the terror of my youth, 
although, to tell the truth, I was never very much given 
to fear ; but on the contrary, although we are in the midst 
of the melancholy month of October, I find you as smil- 
ing as a May morning." 

" My dear Roland," replied Sir John, "my mother died 
on the day of my birth ; my father w^hen I was twelve 
years old. At an age when boys usually go to college, 
I was the master of a fortune, the income from which 
amounted to more than a million francs ; but I was alone 
in the M'orld, without any one whom I could love, or who 
would love me. The sweet joys of family life are entirely 
unknown to me. From the time I was twelve until I was 
eighteen, I studied at the University of Cambridge; my 
taciturn and perhaps haughty nature isolated me from 
my young companions. At the age of eighteen I trav- 
elled. You, who travel through the world under the 
shadow of your flag, and protected by your country ; who 
feel every day tlie desire for glory and the emotions of 
w^ar, — you can have no idea what a melancholy thing it 
is to travel through towns, provinces, States, kingdoms, 
only to visit a church here, a chateau there ; to turrn out 
of bed at four o'clock in the morning at the pitiless com- 
mand of a guide in order to see the sun rise from Rhigi 

VOL. I. — 8 



114 



THE COaiP ANIONS OF JEHU. 



or Etna ; to pass like a ghost among the living shadows 
that we call men ; not to know where to stop ; to have no 
place in which to take root, no arm upon which to lean, 
no heart to receive the out|)ourings of one's own. Well, 
last night, my dear Roland, in a moment, a second, this 
void in my life appeared to be filled. I lived your life ; 
I saw you enjoy the things for wdiich I have longed ; I 
saw the family life of which I am ignorant, as it gathered 
about you. When I looked at your mother, I said to my- 
self, ' My mother would have been like that, I am sure.' 
When I saw your sister, I thought, ' If I had had a sister, 
I should have liked to have her like that.' When I 
embraced your little brother, it was witli the thought that 
I might possibly have had a child of that age, who could 
have come after me in the world ; although I know that I 
shall die as I have lived, sad and lonely. Ah, yon are 
happy, Roland ; you have a family, you have glory, you 
have youth, you have even beauty, — and that is not such 
a bad thing for a man after all. You have every joy, every 
happiness ; you are a fortunate, a very fortunate man, 
Roland." 

" Very well, my lord," said Roland, " but you forget my 
aneurism." 

Sir John looked incredulously at the young man, who 
was certainly the picture of health. " Give me your 
aneurism in exchange for my income of a million," said 
Lord Tanlay, sadly, " provided that with your aneurism 
you gave me the mother who wept with joy at seeing you 
again, the sister whose joy at your arrival fairly made her 
ill, the child who hung upon your neck like fresh and 
beautiful fruit upon a young and thrifty tree ; provided 
that with all this you gave me this chateau with its de- 
lightful shade, this river with its flowery banks, these far- 
off mountains upon whose sides white villages nestle like 



THE CHATEAU OF NOIRES-FONTAINES. 115 



snowy swans. Give me your aneurism, Roland, with 
death in three years, two years, one year, six months 
even ; but with it give me six months of your life, so 
full, so varied, so sweet, so glorious, and I would think 
myself a happy man." 

Roland burst out laughing, with the nervous laugh 
which was peculiar to him. " Ah," he said, " there spoke 
the tourist, the superficial traveller, the wandering Jew of 
civilization, who, stopping nowhere, can appreciate noth- 
ing ; who judges everything by the sensation which it 
brings to himself, and says without opening the doors 
that enclose the habitations of those fools whom we call 
men, ' Behind those walls they are happy ! ' Well, my 
friend^ you see that charming river, do you not j those 
pretty flowery banks, those beautiful villages ? It is the 
image of peace, of innocence, of brotherly love ; it is the 
century of Saturn, the golden age ; it is Eden ; it is para- 
dise. Well, now, all this is filled with people who cut 
one another's throats ; the jungles of Calcutta, the reeds 
of Bengal, are not peopled with more ferocious tigers or 
more cruel panthers than these pretty villages on the 
borders of this charming river. After having funeral fes- 
tivities for the good, the great, the immortal Marat, whom 
they finally — God be praised ! — threw into the sewer, 
like the carrion that he was ; after having funeral fetes, I 
say, in which each one carried an urn to hold all the tears 
he could shed, our good Bressans, our dear Bressans, our 
chicken-fatteners took it into their heads that all repub- 
licans were assassins ; and so they killed them by the cart- 
load, to correct this unfortunate habit which men have of 
assassinating one another. Do you doubt if? On the 
Lons-le-Saulnier road, if you are curious, they will show 
you the place where, barely six months ago, they set up a 
slaughter-house, which would have sickened the stoutest 



116 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



sahreur of our battle-fields. Imagine a vvagoDload of pris- 
oners on the road to Lons-le-Saulnier ; a wagon with a 
rack, — ^one of those immense carts on which they take 
calves to the slaughter-house ; in this cart thirty or more 
men, whose sole crime was a foolish exultation of thoughts 
and menacing words; all of them bound and gagged, 
with heads hanging down and shaken by the jolts, and 
with bosoms panting with thirst, despair, and terror, — 
wretches who had not even, as in the time of Nero or 
Commodus, the privilege of fighting for their lives in the 
arena ; who were powerless and motionless before their own 
massacre ; who were murdered while they were bound ; 
and who were struck not only while they were alive, 
but even after life had departed from them ; whose bodies, 
after life had fled, were given up to dull, heavy strokes 
of the club, which broke the flesh and ground the bones, 
while women looked peacefully on, and held their children 
above their heads as the little things applauded ! Imagine 
old men, who ought only to have been thinking of dying 
like Christians, but who helped by their cries and excite- 
ment to bring these wretches to despair ; and in the midst 
of these old men a little septuagenarian, coquettish, well- 
powdered, flicking away from his lace shirt-front the least 
speck of dirt, taking his Spanish tobacco out of a golden 
snuff-box with a diamond monogram, eating his amber 
lozenges out of a Sevres honhonniere which Mme. de Barry 
gave him, and which was ornamented with the portrait of 
the donor, — imagine this septuagenarian kicking with his 
thin shoes those bodies which were nothing more than a 
mass of human flesh, and fatiguing his withered old 
arms by striking with his slender cane those corpses which 
did not seem to him to be sufficiently dead ! My friend, 
I have seen Montebello, Arcole, Eivoli, and the Pyramids, 
— I thought there could never be anything more terrible; 



THE CHATEAU OF NOIRES-FONTAINES. 117 

bat the mere story of tliese things, which my mother re- 
lated to me last night, after you had gone to your room, 
fairly made my hair stand on end. This is enough of 
itself to explain my poor sister's attack, as my aneurism 
explains my own." 

Sir John looked and listened with the curious aston- 
ishment which the misanthropical moods of his friend 
always caused him. Roland always seemed to be l3ang in 
ambush in some corner of the conversation, ready to 
spring upon the human race at the least occasion which 
should manifest itself. 

Roland perceived now the effect which his words had 
had upon Sir J ohn, and completely changed his tone, sub- 
stituting bitter raillery for misanthropical earnestness. 
''It is true," he said, " that aside from the excellent aris- 
tocrat who finished what the murderers had begun, and 
who dipped his colorless old talons in blood, the people 
who do this sort of thing are people of the lower class, — 
townsfolk and rustics, as our ancestors called those who 
nourished them ; the nobles do the business more ele- 
gantly. You saw what passed at Avignon, did you not 1 
If any one had told you of it, would you have believed 
it] These men who rob the diligences now, pride them- 
selves upon their delicacy ; they have two faces, not 
counting their masks, — they are now Cartouches and Man- 
drins, now Amadis and Galaors. They tell fabulous 
stories of these heroes of the high-road. ]\fy mother told 
me last night that there was one named Laurent, — this 
being, you understand, only a name given to conceal some 
other, as the mask conceals the face, — there was one 
named Laurent, then, who united in himself all the quali- 
ties of a hero of romance and all accomplishments. He 
was beautiful as an ideal ; he was one of a band of seventy- 
two companions of Jehu, who had just been tried at 



118 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Yssengeaux. Seventy of them were acquitted; he and 
one other were condemned to death. They sent the inno- 
cent ones to their homes, and they kept Laurent and his 
companion for the guillotine. But M. Laurent's head was 
too pretty to fall beneath the executioner's knife ; the 
judges who had judged him, and the curious ones who 
came to see him executed, had forgotten this corporeal 
recommendation of beauty, as Montaigne has it. There 
was a woman at the jailer's house at Yssengeaux, — his 
daughter, his sister, or his niece, history — for it is history 
and not romance that I am telling you — history does not 
state which ; enough that the woman, whoever she was, 
fell in love with the beautiful condemned man, so much 
so that two hours before the execution, when Master Laur- 
ent was expecting to see the executioner appear, he saw his 
saving angel enter instead. I cannot tell you how it was 
done, for I know nothing about it, — the lovers had good 
reason for not entering into details ; but the truth is (and 
I beg you always to bear iu mind, Sir John, that it is the 
truth that I am telling), Laurent found himself at liberty, 
only regretting that he could not save his companion, who 
was in another cell. Gensonne under similar circum- 
stances refused to escape, and preferred to die with his 
companions the Girondins ; but, then, Gensonne had not 
the head of Antinous upon the body of Apollo : the more 
beautiful the head is, you know, the more one thinks of 
it. Laurent, therefore, accepted the offer which was made 
to him, and escaped ; a horse was waiting for him at the 
next village ; the young girl, who might have retarded or 
embarrassed his flight, was to join him there at daybreak. 
Day came, but did not bring the saving angel. Our hero 
seems to have thought more of his mistress than of his 
companion, for he would not go without her. It was six 
o'clock in the morning, the very hour fixed for the execu- 



THE CHATEAU OF NOIHES-FONTAINES. 119 



tion ; his impatience increased. Three times since four 
o'clock, had lie turned his horse's head in the direction of 
the town, and each time he had approached a little nearer 
to it. At the third time a horrible idea came into his 
head ; it was that his mistress had been taken, and was to 
pay for his life with her own. He had come to the first 
houses ; and now he spurred on his horse, re-entered the 
city, and crossed it with uncovered face, before the eyes 
of men who knew him, and who Avere astonished to see 
him at liberty and on horseback when they were expect- 
ing to see him bound and gagged and in a cart ; crossed 
the place of execution, where the executioner had just 
learned that one of his victims had disappeared, and per- 
ceived his deliverer, who was forcing her way through the 
crowd, not to see the execution, but to go to him. At 
sight of her he spurred his horse, and leaped towards her, 
overturning two or three loungers as he did so ; he reached 
her, threw her upon his saddle-bow, uttered a joyful cry, 
and disappeared, waving his hat like Conde at the battle 
of Lens; and the people applauded, and the women 
thought the action heroic, and fell in love with the 
hero." 

Eoland paused, and as Sir John was still silent, he 
looked at him inquiringly. 

" Go on,'* replied the Englishman, " I am listening to 
you ; and as I am sure you are telling me all this only to 
lead up to something which you have not yet mentioned, 
I am waiting." 

"Well," said Eoland, laughing, "you are right; and 
upon my word you know me as well as if we had been 
college chums. Well, do you know the idea which came 
into my head last night 1 It was to find out what these 
companions of Jehu are like, near at hand." 

" Oh, I understand. Having failed .to get yourself 



120 



THE COJklPANIONS OF JEHU. 



killed by M. de Barjols, you are going to try M. Morgan 
instead." 

" Or some one else," replied the young officer, quietly ; 
" for I have nothing against M. Morgan, — quite the con- 
trary ; although my first thought, when he came into the 
dining-room and made his little speech, was to throw my- 
self upon his neck and strangle him with one hand, while 
with the other I tore away his mask." 

" Now that I know you, my dear Roland, I have no 
hesitation in asking why you did not carry out that beau- 
tiful project 

" I declare to you that it was not my fault. I started 
to do it, but my companion held me back." 

" Then there are persons who can hold you back ?" 
" Not many ; but this one can." 
" Do you regret it ? " 

" To tell the truth, no. This robber of diligences went 
about his business with a boldness which pleased me. I 
like brave people, instinctively ; if I had not killed M. de 
Barjols, I should have been his friend. It is true that I 
could not find out how brave he was without killing him. 
Eat let us speak of something else, — that duel is one of 
my unhappy memories. Why did I come up here 1 It 
certainly was not for the purpose of speaking to you of 
the exploits of the companions of Jehu, nor of M. Laur- 
ent. Ah, it was to try and find out what you would like 
to do while you are here. I would willingly do anything 
in the world, my dear guest, for the sake of amusing you ; 
but I have two things against me, — my country, which 
is not very amusing ; and your nation, which is not very 
easily amused." 

"I have already told you, Roland," said Sir John, hold- 
ing out his hand, "that I think the Chateau of Noires 
Fontaines is paradise itself." 



THE CHATEAU OF NOIRES-FONTAINES. 



121 



Granted ; but nevertheless, in the fear lest you find 
your paradise monotonous, I will do my best to amuse 
you. Have you a taste for archeology 1 We have the 
church of Brou, — a wonder, witli the lacework sculp- 
tured by Master Colomban ; there is a legend about it, 
which I will tell you some night when you cannot sleep. 
You will see there the tombs of Marguerite de Bourbon, 
Philippe le Beau, and Marguerite of Austria ; we will let 
you guess the grand problem of the motto, — ' Fortune, 
infortune, fortune,' — which I have had the presump- 
tion to solve by this Latinized version, ' Fortuna, in- 
fortuna, forti una.' Do you like fishing 1 You have the 
Reyssouse at your very feet ; at your fingers' ends there is 
a collection of hooks and lines belonging to Edward, and 
some nets of Michel. As for the fishes, they are the 
last things to be considered. Do you like hunting 1 We 
have the forest of Seillon almost at our doors ; there is no 
hunting with horses and dogs, you understand, but plenty 
of shooting. The w^oods of my ancient bugbears the 
monks abound' in wild boars, deer, rabbits, and foxes. 
jS^o one hunts there, because it belongs to the government, 
and just now the government is no one. As aide-de-camp 
to General Bonaparte, I will fill the void, and we will see 
whether any one objects to my killing boars, deer, foxes, 
and hares on the Reyssouse, after having hunted the 
Austrians on the Adige and the Mamelukes on the Nile. 
One day of archeology, one of fishing, and one of hunt- 
ing, — there are three days : you see, my dear friend, that 
that leaves us only fifteen or sixteen to be anxious about." 

" My dear Roland," replied Sir John, sadly, without 
paying any attention to this voluble speech, " will you 
not tell me what fever it is that is devouring you, — what 
grief it is tliat preys upon you 1 " 

" There, now ! " said Roland, with a burst of harsh 



122 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



laughter, I never was gayer than I am this morning ; 
it is you who have the blues this time, my lord." 

" Some day I shall be really your friend/' replied Sir 
John, quietly. " When that day comes, you will give me 
your confidence ; when that day comes, I will share your 
troubles." 

" And my aneurism ] Are you hungry, my lord 1 " 
"Why do you ask 

"Because I hear Edward coming upstairs to tell us 
that breakfast is ready." 

In fact, Roland had scarcely pronounced the last word 
when the door opened, and the child said : " Brother 
Roland, Mamma and Sister Amelie are waiting breakfast 
for you." 

Then taking the Englishman's right hand, Edward 
looked attentively at the first joint of the thumb, and the 
first and second fingers. 

"What are you looking at, my young friend?" asked 
Sir John. 

" I am looking to see if you have any ink on your 
fingers." 

" And suppose I had, what would it mean 1 " 

" That you had been writing to England, to send for 

my pistols and sword." 

"No, I have not written," said Sir John; "but I will 

write to-day." 

" Do you hear that, brother Roland 1 In a fortnight I 
shall have my pistols and sword ! " 

And the happy child held up his firm, rosy cheek to 
Sir John, who kissed him as tenderly as if he had been 
his father. Then all three went down to the dining-room, 
where they found Amelie and Mme. de Montrevel await- 
ing them. 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



123 



CHAPTER XII. 

PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 

The same day Roland put into execution a part of his 
programme. He took Sir John to visit the church at 
Brou. Those who have seen the charming little chapel of 
Brou know that it is one of the hundred wonders of the 
Renaissance ; and those who have not seen it have heard 
of it. 

Roland, who had looked forward with pleasure to doing 
the honors of this historical hijou for Sir John, and who 
had not seen it himself for seven or eight years, was much 
disappointed to find the niches of the saints empty, and 
the small figures on the doorway decapitated. He asked 
for the sacristan, but they laughed in his face. There was 
no longer any sacristan. He asked to whom he should 
apply for the keys ; he was told to go to the captain of 
police. The captain of police was not far away, the 
cloister belonging to the church having been converted 
into barracks. 

Roland went up to the captain's room, and introduced 
himself as one of Napoleon's aides-de-camp. The captain, 
with the passive obedience of an inferior to his superior, 
gave him the keys, and followed him. Sir John was 
waiting at the door, admiring, in spite of the mutilations 
which they had endured, the admirable details of the 
fagade. Roland opened the door, and drew back in aston- 
ishment ; the church was literally stuffed with hay, like a 
cannon loaded to the mouth. 



124 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



What is this ] " he demanded. 
'■'It is a precaution adopted by the municipality," re- 
plied the captain. 

A precaution ] " 
Yes." 

To what end '? " 

" That of preserving the church. They were going to 
destroy it, but the mayor ordered that in expiation of the 
mistaken creed which it had served it should be used as a 
storehouse for fudder." 

Roland burst out laughing, and turning to Sir John, he 
exclaimed : " My lord, the church was a curious sight, 
but I think that what we have just heard is not less re- 
markable. You can find almost everywhere — at Stras- 
bourg, Cologne, or ]\rilan, for example — a church or a 
dome which is as good as the chapel of Brou ; but I think 
you will hardly find administrators elsewhere who are 
stupid enough to destroy a chef-d'ceuvre, or a mayor intel- 
ligent enough to turn it into a storehouse for hay. A 
thousand thanks, Captain : here aie your keys." 

" As I remarked at Avignon the first time I ever saw 
you," said Sir John, "the French are a very amusing 
people." 

'•'In this case, my lord, you are too polite," replied 
Roland. " You should have said idiotic. I can understand 
the political convulsions which have overturned our society 
for the last thousand years ; I can understand the com- 
munes, the Jacquerie, the St. -Bartholomew, the Ligue, the 
Fronde, the Revolution ; I can understand the 14th of 
July, the 5th and 6th of October, the 20th of June, the 
10th of August, the 2d and 3d of September, the 21st of 
January, the 31st of May, the 30th of October, and the 
9th Thermidor; I can understand the torch of civil war, 
with its wildfire which is kindled with blood instead of 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



125 



extinguished by it ; I can understand the ocean of revo- 
hitions, whose rising tide is irresistible, and whose ebb 
carries with it the ruins of the institutions which its flood 
has overturned, — I can understand all this, for it is lance 
against lance, sword against sword, men against men, 
people against people ! I can understand the mortal frenzy 
of the conquerors, the bloody reactions of the conquered ; 
I can understand the political volcanoes which groan in 
the entrails of the globe, which shake the earth, which 
overturn thrones, and destroy monarchies, rolling heads 
and crowns upon a scaffold. But what I cannot under- 
stand is the mutilation of granite, the outlawry of mon- 
uments ; the destruction of inanimate things, which belong 
neither to those who destroy nor to the epoch which they 
seek to annihilate ; the destruction of that gigantic library 
wherein the antiquary can read the archeological history 
of a country. Oh, the vandals! the barbarians! better 
still, the idiots ! who avenge themselves upon the stones 
for the crimes of a Borgia or the debauches of a Louis XV. ! 
How well they understood perverse, destructive man, 
these Pharaohs, Menes, Cheops, and Osymandias, who 
caused their pyramids to be built, not with interlaced 
foliage and lofty lace-work, but with blocks of granite 
fifty feet long! How they must have chuckled in their 
sepulchres as they watched the effects of the scythe of 
Time and the finger-nails of the pachas upon that granite! 
Let us build pyramids, my lord. It is not as difficult as 
architecture nor as beautiful as art ; but it is solid ; it 
enables a general, after four thousand years, to say : ' Sol- 
diers, from the top of these monuments forty centuries 
are watching you!' Upon my honor, my lord, I should 
like to meet a windmill and pick a quarrel with it." 

And Roland, bursting into his habitual laugh, drew Sir 
John in the direction of the chateau. 



126 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Sir John stopped liira. " Is there nothing in the whole 
place to see," he asked, " except the church 

" Before it was converted into a storehouse," replied 
Roland, " I would have proposed to you to go down into 
the burial vaults of the dukes of Savoy with me; we 
would have sought together for a subterranean passage 
which is said to exist, which is almost a league in length, 
and which communicates, so they say, with the grotto of 
Ceyzeriat. Please take notice that I should not' propose 
such an entertainment to any one but an Englishman ; it 
would have been a second edition of the ' Mysteries of 
Udolpho/ by the celebrated Anne Radcliflfe ; but you see 
that it is now impossible. Well, come on." 

" And where shall we go 1 " 

" Upon my word, I don't know. Ten years ago I would 
have taken you to the establishments where they fattened 
poultry. The pullets of Bresse, you must know, had a 
European reputation. Bourg was the place from which 
Strasbourg was supplied. But during the terror, all the 
people who were engaged in this business shut up shop ; 
it was called aristocratic to eat pullets, and aristocrats 
were doomed. After the fall of Robespierre they opened 
again ; but since the 18th Fructidor everything has grown 
thin in France, even the poultry. Never mind, I will 
show you something else, — the place where those who 
ate the chickens were executed, for example. Besides, 
since I have been in the city they have changed the very 
names of the streets; I don't know why." 

"Ah," said Sir John, " th&n you are not a republican " 
" Yes, I am ! I call myself an excellent republican, 
and feel that I am even capable of burning myself like 
Mucins Scasvola, or of throwing myself into a gulf like 
Curtius, to save the republic ; but unhappily my sense of 
the ludicrous is very keen, and anything ridiculous makes 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



127 



me laugh in spite of myself. I willingly accepted the 
constitution of 1791 ; but when poor Herault de Sechelles 
wrote to the director of the national library to send him 
the laws of Minos, so that he could make a constitution 
upon the model of that of the Isle of Crete, I thought 
they were going a good way for a model, and that we 
might content ourselves with that of Lycurgus. In my 
opinion, January, February, and March, mythological as 
they are, are just as good as Nivose, Pluviose, and Ven- 
tose. I cannot understand why, when people are called 
Antoine or Chrysostome in 1789, they must be called 
Brutus or Cassius in 1793. Now, here, my lord, here is an 
honest street, which was once called the Rue des Halles ; 
there was nothing indecent or aristocratic about that, 
was there 1 Well, it is called now — wait ! " Roland 
looked at the name. " It is called now the Rue de la 
Revolution. There is another which was called the Rue 
Notre-Dame, and which is named now the Rue du Temple. 
Why temple 1 Now, look at this third one ; it was called 
the Rue Crevecoeur, an illustrious name in Bresse, Bur- 
gundy, and Flanders ; it is now called the Rue de la Fed- 
eration. Federation is a beautiful thing, but Crevecceur 
was a fine name. And then, you see, it leads straight 
down to the Place de la Guillotine, Avhich in my opinion 
is a mistake ; if I had my way, there should be no streets 
at all leading to that article. This one has one advantage ; 
it is only a hundred steps from the prison, — which saved, 
and still saves, the cost of a horse and cart to the city. 
And then the place is admirably arranged for spectators ; 
and my ancestor Montrevel, whose name it bears, has 
worked out the great problem, yet to be solved in the 
theatres, of being able to see from every place. If ever 
any one cuts off my head, which would not be at all 
extraordinary as times go, I should have only one re- 



128 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



gret, — that of not being in a position to see the show as 
well as others. 

"There, now," continued Roland, "come up this little 
hill with me ; here we are on the Place des Lices. Our 
Revolutionists have left that name, probably because they 
did not know what it meant ; I don't know much better 
than they, but I believe a lord of Estavayer defied some 
Flemish count or other, and that the fight took place 
here. And now, my lord, this prison will give you some 
idea of human vicissitudes. Gil Bias did not change his 
condition any oftener than has this monument of destiny. 
Before the time of Cgesar it was a temple of the Gauls ; 
Csesar made a Roman fortress of it ; an unknown architect 
transformed it into a military citadel in the Middle Ages ; 
the lords of Baye, following the example of Csesar, made 
a fortress of it again ; the princes of Savoy used it for a 
residence ; it was there that the aunt of Charles Y. stayed 
when she came to look at her church of Brou, which she 
was destined never to see finished. Finally, after the 
treaty of Lyons, they made of it both a prison and a 
palace of Justice. Wait for me here, my lord, if you ob- 
ject to locks and bolts. I have a visit to pay to a certain 
cell." 

" Locks and bolts are certainly not very cheerful," said 
Sir John, " but no matter. Since you have undertaken 
my education, lead the way to your cell." 

" Well, then, come in quickly. I think I see a lot of 
persons who look as if they wanted to speak with me." 

And in fact, little by little, a kind of rumor had 
seemed to get whispered about the town ; persons came 
out of the houses and stood in groups on the street, and 
looked curiously at Roland. He rang the bell at the gate, 
which was situated as it is to-day, except that it opened 
upon the prison yard. A turnkey came to open it. 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



129 



"Ah, are you here still, Father Courtois'?" said the 
young man. 

The jailer looked at him in astonishment. " How does 
it happen/' he asked through the grating, "that you 
know my name when I don't know yours 1" 

" I know not only your name, but your principles ; you 
are an old royalist, Father Courtois." 

"Sir," said the terrified turnkey, "no jokes, if you 
please ; tell me what you want." 

" Well, Father Courtois, I should like to visit the cell 
where my mother and sister, Mme. and Mdlle. de Mon- 
trevel, were confined." 

" What ! " cried the concierge^ " is it you. Monsieur 
Louis ? Well, you were right in saying that I did not re- 
cognize you. Do you know that you have grown to be 
a fine-looking fellow 1 " 

" Do you think so. Father Courtois ? Well, I can re- 
turn the compliment, — your daughter Charlotte is a beau- 
tiful girl. Charlotte is my sister's maid, my lord." 

" And she thinks herself very lucky ; she likes it better 
than being here, Monsieur Roland. Is it true that you 
are aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte % " 

" Alas ! Courtois, I have that honor. You would like 
me better if I were aide-de-camp to the Count d'Artois 
or the Duke d'Angouleme, would you not 1 " 

" Hush, Monsieur Louis ! " Then, drawing closer, he 
whispered : " Tell me, is it a fact? " 

" What 1 " 

" That General Bonaparte passed through here yester- 
day on his way from Lyons % " 

I think there must be something in the news, for this 
is the second time I have heard it. Oh, I understand now 
why all those good persons stared at me so, and seemed to 
want to question me. They are like you, Father Cour- 

VOL. I. — 9 



130 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



tois, — they want to know w^hat General Bonaparte's ar- 
rival signifies." 

*'You don't know what they say, then, Monsieur 
Louis r' 

" They say a good deal, Father Courtois." 

" They say something this time, but they say it softly." 

" What is it 1 " 

"They say that he has come to claim from the Direc. 
tory the throne of his Majesty Louis XYIIL, in order to 
put him upon it j and that if Citizen Gohier, as president, 
does not give it to him willingly, he will take it by 
force." 

" Bah ! " said the young ofiScer, w4th mocking in- 
credulity. 

But father Courtois insisted with a nod. 

" It is possible," said the young man ; " but now that 
you know me, will you open the gate % " 

Open it? I should think so! What the devil am I 
thinking of % " And the turnkey opened the door with 
an eagerness which contrasted forcibly with his former 
reluctance. 

The young man entered, and Sir John followed him. 
The turnkey secured the gate carefully, and led the way. 
Roland followed him, and Sir John came last. The latter 
was growing accustomed to his young friend's vagaries. 
Spleen is nothing but misanthropy, without the ill-humor 
of Timon and the wit of Alceste. 

The jailer crossed the prison yard, which was separated 
from the palace of justice by a wall fifteen feet high, in 
the midst of which was a passage that turned back for a 
few feet, w^here there was a massive oak door, by means 
of w^hich prisoners could be taken into the adjoining 
building without passing through the street. The yard 
being crossed, they came to the left angle of the court, 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



131 



where a winding staircase led to the interior of the prison. 
We give these details because later we propose to revisit 
these scenes, and they will then not be entirely unfamiliar 
to our readers. The staircase led first to the anteroom of 
the prison, a room which was appropriated to the porter, 
or door-keeper ; from this room there was a stairway of 
ten steps, which led down to an outer court, separated 
from that of the prisoners by a wall similar to the one 
already described, except that it was pierced by three 
doors ; at the extremity of this court a passage led to the 
jailer's room, and from there a second corridor led directly 
to the cells, which were picturesquely called "cages." The 
jailer stopped at the first of these cages, and tapped upon 
the door. 

" This is the place," he said, " where I put your mother 
and sister ; so that if the dear ladies needed Charlotte or 
me, they had only to knock." 

" Is there any one in the cell ? " 

"JTo." 

" Then do me the favor to open the door. This is Lord 
Tanlay, who is making the tour of France to see whether 
the prisons here are any better than those of England." 

And as Father Courtois opened the door, Roland pushed 
Sir John into a cell ten or twelve feet square. 

" Oh," said the Englishman, " what a gloomy place ! " 

"Do you think so] Well, my lord, this is the place 
where my mother, the best woman that ever lived, and 
my sister, whom you know, passed six weeks, with the 
prospect of leaving it only for the guillotine. That was 
five years ago, and my sister was barely twelve years 
old." 

" But what crime had they committed 1 " 
" Oh, an enormous one ! At the anniversary fete given 
by the city of Bourg at the death of the Friend of the 



132 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEOT. 



people, ray mother refused to allow my sister to be one of 
the virgins "who were to carry the urns containing the 
tears of France. How can we blame herl Poor woman ! 
she thought she had done enough for her country since 
she had offered up the blood of her son and her husband, — 
the one in Italy and the other in Germany, — but she was 
mistaken ; the country claimed her daughter's tears ; and 
what made her refusal worse, she gave it when those tears 
were required for Citizen Marat. The result was that on 
the very evening of the fete, in the midst of the enthusi- 
asm, my mother was arrested. Fortunately, Bourg was 
not as rapid about these things as Paris, and a friend of 
ours who was in authority contrived to delay the affair 
until one fine day we heard of the fall and death of Robes- 
pierre. That was an interruption to many things ; and 
among others, to the executions. Our friend in authority 
gave the tribunal to understand that clemency was the 
order of the day. They waited one week, then two ; 
and finally they told my mother and sister that they were 
free. 

" And so you see, my friend," continued Roland, "and 
this gives rise to many philosophical reflections, — if Mad- 
emoiselle Teresa Cabarrus had not come from Spain to 
France ; if she had not married M. de Fontenoy, coun- 
sellor to parliament ; if she had not been arrested and 
brought before the proconsul Tallien, son of the steward 
of the Marquis de Bercy, ex-clerk of the solicitor, ex- 
overseer of the printing-house, ex-copying clerk, ex-secre- 
tary of the commune of Paris, just then on an embassy 
to Bordeaux ; if the ex-consul had not fallen in love 
with her ; if she had not been imprisoned ; if, on the 9t]i 
Thermidor, she had not sent a poniard to him with these 
words : 'If the tyrant does not die to-day, I die to- 
morrow ; ' if Saint-Just had not been interrupted in the 



PROVINCIAL PLEASURES. 



133 



middle of his speech ; if Eobespierre had not had a frog 
in his throat that very day ; if Gamier de I'Aube had not 
exclaimed, ' It is Danton's blood which is strangling you ! ' 
if Louchet had not demanded his arrest ; if he had not 
been arrested, rescued by the commune, and again taken, 
had his jaw broken by a pistol-shot, and been executed 
the next day, — my mother would in all probability have 
had her throat cut because she would not permit her 
daughter to weep for Marat in one of the dozen urns for 
wliich the city of Bourg was obliged to provide tears. 
Farewell, Courtois ; you are a good fellow ; you gave my 
mother and sister a little water to put with their wine, 
and a little hope to put in their hearts ; you lent them 
your daughter, so that they need not sweep their cell 
themselves ; you deserve a fortune. Unfortunately I am 
not rich ; but I have fifty louis about me, and here they 
are. Come, my lord." 

And the young man drew Sir John after him, before 
the jailer had had time to recover from his surprise enough 
to thank Eoland or refuse the fifty louis, — which latter, 
it must be confessed, would have been a tremendous proof 
of disinterestedness on the part of a jailer; above all, 
when that jailer's opinions were contrary to those of the 
government he served. 

When Roland and Sir John came out of the prison they 
found the Place des Lices filled with people who had heard 
of General Bonaparte's return to France, and who were 
shouting with all their might " Long live Bonaparte ! " — 
some of them because they really admired the conqueror 
of Arcole, Rivoli, and the Pyramids ; and others because, 
like Courtois, they had been told that the general had 
made his conquests only for the benefit of his Majesty 

Louis xvin. 

This time, as Roland and Sir John had visited every- 



134 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



thing of note in the town of Boiirg, they at last took the 
road to Noires-Fontaines, where they arrived without any 
further delay. 

Mme. de Montrevel and Amelie had gone out. Ro- 
land installed his friend in an armchair, and asked him 
to wait a few moments for him. At the end of five 
minutes he returned, holding in his hand a pamphlet 
badly printed on gray paper. 

" My friend," he said, " you seemed to doubt the au- 
thenticity of the fete of which I was telling you just now, 
which nearly cost my mother and sister their lives ; so I 
have brought you the programme of it. AVhile you are 
reading it, I will go and see what has become of my dogs ; 
for I suppose you w^ould prefer to give up the day's fishing, 
and go hunting instead." 

And he went out, leaving in Sir John's hand the order 
of the municipality of the town of Bourg for a funeral 
fete in honor of Marat, to be held on the anniversary of 
his death. 



THE BOAR. 



135 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE BOAR. 

Sir John had finished his interesting task when Mme. de 
Montrevel and her daughter returned. 

Am^lie, who did not know that she had been the sub- 
ject of conversation between her brother and Sir John, 
was astonished at the expression with which that gentle- 
man fixed his eyes on her. She seemed to him to be 
more beautiful than ever. He could easily understand 
how the mother, at the peril of her life, had refused to 
allow this charming creature to profane her youth and 
beauty by taking a prominent part in a fete of which 
Marat was the god. He remembered the cold and damp 
cell which he had visited only an hour ago, and shuddered 
at the idea that this white and delicate creature had been 
shut up there for six weeks without fresh air or sun- 
shine. He looked at her neck, slender and graceful 
as that of a swan, and thought of what the poor Prin- 
cess of Lamballe had said, as she clasped her fingers 
around her own : " It will not give the executioner much 
trouble ! " 

These thoughts so altered Sir John's expression that 
Mine, de Montrevel could not help asking him what was 
the matter with him. He then related to her his visit to 
the prison, and to the cell which they had formerly 
inhabited. 

Just as Sir John finished his story, a bugle sounded a 



136 



THE COMPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



call to the cliase, and Eoland entered, his horn at his 
mouth ; but removing it immediately, he said : " Sir 
John, YOU must he grateful to my mother; for, thanks to 
her, we shall have a magnificent hunt to-morrow." 

"Thanks to me?" repeated Mme. de Montrevel, 
inquiringly. 

How is that ? " said Sir John. 

" I left you to go and see my dogs, did I not ? " 

"So you said, at least." 

" I had two, Barhichon and Kavaude, — two excellent 
animals, male and female.*' 
. "Oh," said Sir John, "'are they dead?" 

"'Well, yesj but this excellent mother of mine" — 
here he put his hands on ]\Ime. de Montrevel's head, and 
kissed her upon both cheeks — " has not allowed a single 
one of their little ones to be drowned, because they were 
the dogs of my dogs ; and now the children, grand-chil- 
dren, and great-grand-children of Barhichon and Earaude 
are as numerous as the descendants of Ishmael, and in- 
stead of one pair of hounds I have a whole pack, — 
twenty-five of them, all of the same breed ; all of them 
black, with white paws and fiery eyes, and a regiment of 
trumpet tails that it would do you good to look at." 

And Eoland sounded a fresh blast upon his horn, which 
brought his young brotlier to the spot. 

" Oh,*' cried the boy, as he entered, " you are going 
hunting to-morrow, Eoland ; I am going too ! I am going 
too ! I am going too ! " 

"'Good!" said Eoland; "do you know what we are 
going to hunt ? " 

" No ; but I know that I am going." 

" We are going to hunt wild boars." 

" Oh, how splendid ! " exclaimed the boy, clapping his 
hands. 



THE BOAR. 



137 



"You are crazy," said Mme. de Montrevel, turning 
pale. 

"And why, Mamma, if you please?" 
" Because a wild-boar hunt is a very dangerous 
thing." 

" Not as dangerous as hunting men. You see my 
brother has come back alive from that, and I shall come 
back from the other." 

" Roland," said Mme. de Montrevel, while Amelie, lost 
in thought, took no part in the discussion, " make the boy 
listen to reason; tell him he is talking nonsense." 

But Roland, who seemed to see his own boyhood re- 
newed in his brother, instead of blaming him, smiled at 
liis childish courage. " I would like to take you very 
much," he said ; " but before you go hunting, you must 
at least know what a gun is." 

"Oho!" returned Edward, "just come into the gar- 
den, and put your hat a hundred paces off, and I will show 
you whether I know what a gun is." 

" You wretched boy ! " cried Mme. de Montrevel, trem- 
bling, " where did you learn 1 " 

"At the armorer's in Montagnat, where Papa's and 
brother Roland's guns are. You have asked me some- 
times what I did with my money, have you not? 
Well, I bought powder and balls with it, and I have been 
learning to kill Austrians and Arabs, just like brother 
Roland." 

Mme. de Montrevel lifted her hands in dismay. 

" What would you have. Mother 1 " said Roland. " It is 
bred in the bone. A Montrevel cannot fear powder. You 
may come with us to-morrow, Edward." 

The child sprang to his brother's neck. 

"And I will arm you for the hunt," said Sir John. 
" I have a charming little rifle which I will give you, and 



138 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



which will help you to be patient until your pistols and 
sword arrive." 

" There," said Eoland, " are you satisfied, Edward ? " 

" Yes ; hut when will you give it to me 1 If you must 
write to England for it, I warn you that I shall not be- 
lieve in it." 

"ISTo, my young friend, we have only to go up to my 
room and open my gun-box ; you see that will not take 
long." 

Then let us come up to your room at once." 

"Come on," replied Sir John. And he went out, fol- 
lowed by Edward. 

A moment later, Amelie, still thoughtful, also rose and 
went out. 

I^either Mme. de Montrevel nor Eoland paid any atten- 
tion to her departure ; they were engaged in a grave dis- 
cussion. Mme. de Montrevel was trying to persuade 
Eoland not to take his j^oung brother hunting, and Eoland 
was explaining to her that as Edward was destined to be 
a soldier, like his father and brother, the sooner he became 
accustomed to powder and balls the better. The discus- 
sion was not yet finished when Edward returned, with his 
rifle slung over his shoulder. 

" Look, brother," he said to Eoland, " see the beautiful 
present my lord has given me ! " And he threw a grateful 
glance towards Sir John, who was looking around the room 
in a vain search for Amelie. 

It was, in truth, a magnificent gift. The weapon, made 
with the absence of ornament and the simplicity of form 
peculiar to the English, was beautifully finished. Like 
the pistols, as Eoland at once noticed, it was from the 
workshops of Menton, and carried a 24-calibre ball. It 
must have been made for a lady ; this was easily to be 
seen by the short length of the butt-end and the velvet 



THE BOAR. 



139 



cushion ; it was therefore a perfect weapon for a lad of a 
dozen years. 

Roland took the rifle from Edward and examined it 
lovingly, moving the hammers, putting it to his cheek, 
tossing it from one hand to the other, and finally handing 
it to Edward again, saying, " You must thank my lord 
once more ; you have a rifle there fit for a prince. Let 
us come and try it." 

And they all three went out to try the rifle, leaving 
Mme. de Montrevel as sad as was Thetis when she saw 
Achilles, from under his woman's dress, draw from its 
scabbard the sword of Ulysses. 

A quarter of an hour later Edward returned trium- 
phant, bringing to his mother a card as big round as a 
hat, in which he had put ten balls out of twelve. The 
two men had remained outside to talk and walk in the 
park. 

Mme. de Montrevel listened to the rather boastful re- 
cital of Edward's prowess ; then she looked at him with 
the lingering and saintly sadness of mothers to whom 
glory is no compensation for the blood that it sheds. 
What an ingrate is the child who sees this look fastened 
upon him and then forgets it ! After a few moments, 
pressing the boy to her heart, she murmured sobbingly, 
"And you also will leave your mother some day " 
"Yes, Mamma," replied the child, "but only to be- 
come a general like my father, or an aide-de-camp like 
my brother." 

"And to be killed as your father was, and as your 
brother will perhaps be ; " for the strange change in 
Koland's character had not escaped his mother's notice, 
and was an added source of uneasiness to her. 

Among the things which troubled Mme. de Montrevel 
were Amelie's pallor and strange preoccupation. Amelie 



140 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



was seventeen years old, and her youth had been happy 
and healthy. The death of her father had cast a gloom 
over it ; hut the storms of springtime are soon over ; her 
smile, that beautiful sunshine of the dawn of life, had re- 
turned, and, like that of I^ature, it shone upon the dew 
of the heart, which we call tears. Then one day, about 
six months before, Amelie's brow had become saddened and 
her cheeks pale ; and like birds of passage that take flight 
at the approach of foggy weather, the childish laugh which 
escaped from the half-open lips and white teeth fled from 
Amelie's mouth, to return no more. 

Mme. de Montrevel had questioned her daughter, but 
Amelie had denied that anything was the matter ; she had 
made an efi*ort to smile, and then, as a stone thrown into 
a lake makes circles which gradually die away, the rij)ples 
created by maternal uneasiness disappeared little by little 
from Amelie's face. With her true mother-instinct, Mme. 
de Montrevel had thought of love ; but whom could 
Amelie love"? No one came to the Chateau of Noires- 
Fontaines ; political troubles had destroyed society, and 
Aniehe never went out alone. Mme. de Montrevel could 
only conjecture. Koland's return had given her hope for 
the moment, but it had died away when she saw how 
Amelie was affected by his arrival. It was not a sister, 
but a spectre, which had appeared to him. 

Since her son's arrival, Mme. de Montrevel had not lost 
sight of Amelie, and she had been pained to observe the 
effect which the presence of the young officer seemed to 
produce upon his sister ; it was almost fright. She whose 
eyes had formerly held nothing but love when they had 
gazed upon Roland, now seemed to look at him almost 
with terror. Only a little while ago, Amelie had profited 
by the first moment of liberty which had been afforded 
her to go up to her room, the sole place in the house 



THE BOAR. 



141 



where she seemed to find any happiness, and where for the 
last six months she liad passed the greater part of her time. 
The dinner-bell alone had power to bring her down again, 
and it was not until the second stroke that she entered 
the dining-room. 

Roland and Sir John had passed the day at Bourg, as 
we have seen, and in making preparations for the next 
day's hunt. From morning until noon they were to have 
a battue, and from noon to evening they were to hunt on 
horseback. 

Michel, a desperate poacher, confined to his chair by a 
sprain, as Edward had told his brother, felt better when he 
found there was to be a hunt, and had himself got upon 
the horse that served to do the errands for the house, in 
order to go and engage the beaters of St. -Just and 
Montagnac. Since he himself could neither beat the 
woods nor hunt, he was to stay with the pack, and with 
the horses of Sir John and Eoland, and Edward's pony, 
in the centre of the forest, which was only crossed by one 
road and two practicable paths. The beaters, who could 
not follow a horseback hunt, were to return to the chateau 
at noon with the game that had been slain. 

The next day, at six o'clock in the morning, the beaters 
were at the door. Michel was not to start with the dogs 
and horses until eleven o'clock. 

The. Chateau of Noires-Fontaines was on the very bor- 
ders of the forest of Seillon ; they could therefore begin 
to hunt as soon as they were outside the gate. As the 
battue promised principally deer and hares, they were to 
use shot-guns for it. Roland gave Edward a single-bar- 
relled gun which he had himself used when a boy, and 
with which he had done his first shooting. He had not 
yet sufficient confidence in the prudence of the boy to 
trust him with a double-barrelled gun. As for the weapon 



142 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



which Sir John had given him on the previous night, it 
was a rifled carbine, and could only carry bullets. It had 
therefore been confided to Michel's care • and in case they 
shot at a boar, it was to be given back to the boy for the 
second part of the hunt. For this latter part of the sport 
Roland and Sir John also were to change their^weapons, 
and were armed with double-barrelled rifles and hunting- 
knives pointed like poniards and sharp as razors, which 
made part of Sir John's arsenal, and which could be hung 
at the side or fixed as bayonets in the rifles. 

The first battue showed that the chase would be a good 
one, for they killed a deer and two hares. At noon three 
deer, seven roe-bucks, and two foxes had been killed. 
They had seen two boars ; but the only efi'ect a shower of 
large shot had had upon them had been to make them 
shake themselves and disappear. Edward was perfectly 
happy : he had killed a deer. 

As had been agreed, the beaters, well paid for their 
trouble, had been sent back to the chateau with the game. 
They sounded a cornet, for the sake of learning Michel's 
whereabouts, and he replied. In less than ten minutes 
the three hunters had found the gardener, the pack of 
hounds, and the horses. 

Michel had seen a boar ; his eldest son had turned him, 
and he was then in an enclosure about a hundred feet 
from the hunters. Jacques, Michel's son, beat about the 
enclosure with the leaders of the pack, and at the end of 
ten minutes the boar made for his lair. They could easily 
have killed him then, but the hunt would have been over 
too soon ; they therefore let loose the whole pack upon the 
animal, who, seeing the troop of pygmies darting upon 
him, set off at a trot. Roland saw him crossing the road, 
and sounded his horn ; then, as the animal started towards 
the monastery of Seillon, the three horsemen went along 



THE BOAR. 



143 



the path which led through the woods in the same 
direction. 

The animal was driven back and forth until about five 
o'clock in the evening, doubling on his tracks, and seem- 
ing loath to leave a wood so full of thickets. But at last 
they knew, by the baying of the dogs, that the boar had 
turned upon them. 

The hunters were about a hundred paces from the pavil- 
ion belonging to the charter-house, at one of the most 
difficult places in the forest to penetrate. It was impos- 
sible to force their way through on horseback, and they 
therefore dismounted. The baying of the dogs guided 
the hunters, and they were able to keep a straight course, 
except where natural obstacles obliged them to turn aside. 
From time to time cries of pain showed that one of the 
dogs had ventured too near, and had received the re- 
ward of his temerity. 

At about twenty paces from the spot where this ener- 
getic drama was taking place, they began to catch a 
glimpse of the actors in it. The boar was crouching be- 
fore a rock, in such a way that he could not be attacked 
from behind. Resting upon his front paws, he turned to 
the dogs his head, with its reddened eyes and its two 
enormous weapons. The dogs moved before him, around 
him, above him, like a waving carpet. Five or six, more 
or less dangerously wounded, were staining the battle-field 
with blood ; but they did not cease their attacks upon 
the boar, and showed a courage at which many brave 
men might have taken example. 

Edward, the most imprudent of the hunters, and at the 
same time the smallest, was enabled by his short stature 
to force his way through the bushes more readily than the 
others, and was the first to arrive ; Roland, careless of 
every kind of danger, seeking it rather than shunning it, 



144 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



came next ; and Sir John, slower, graver, less impulsive, 
came third. 

When the boar perceived the hunters, he seemed to pay- 
no further attention to the dogs. His eyes, fixed and 
bloody, were fastened upon the new arrivals, and his only- 
movement was to grind his jaws together with a menacing 
noise. 

Roland looked for a moment at the spectacle, with an 
evident desire to throw himself into the midst of the fray, 
hunting-knife in hand, and to cut the boar's throat, as a 
butcher slays a calf or a pig. 

The movement was so apparent that Sir John caught 
him by the arm, and Edward cried, " Oh, brother ! let 
me shoot the boar ! " 

Roland drew back. Well, yes," he said, leaning his 
gun against a tree, and standing armed only with his 
hunting-knife, which he drew from its sheath, " you may 
shoot him ; ready ! ." 

"Oh, be quiet ! " said the boy^, with clenched teeth and 
a pale but resolute face, as he raised his rifle to a level 
with the animal. 

" If he misses, or only wounds him," observed Sir 
John, " you know the animal will be upon us before we 
have time to see him." 

" I know it, my lord ; but I am familiar with this kind 
of hunting," replied Roland, with dilating nostrils, burn- 
ing eyes, and parted lips. " Fire, Edward ! " 

The report followed the command instantly ; but with 
the report, perhaps even before it, the animal, like a flash 
of lightning, had sprung upon the child. There was a 
second shot ; but through the smoke they could see the 
gleaming eyes of the boar. As he sprang, however, he 
encountered Roland, who was on one knee, with his hunt- 
ing-knife in his hand. 



THE BOAR. 



145 



For a moment a confused and shapeless group rolled 
upon the ground. Then a third shot was heard, followed 
by a burst of laughter from Roland. " A waste of powder 
and ball, my lord," he cried ; " do you not see that the 
animal is dead 1 But help me to get rid of his body ; 
the fellow weighs at least four hundred, and is stifling 
me." 

But before Sir John could stoop, Roland, by a vigorous 
movement of his shoulders, had shoved the body of the 
animal one side, and risen, covered with blood, but with- 
out a gcratch. Edward, whether from want of time or 
from courage, had not retreated a step. It is true that he 
had been completely protected by the body of his brother, 
which had been thrust before him. Sir John had leaped 
one side, to get a shot at the animal's flank, and he now 
looked at Roland, as he shook himself after this second 
duel, much as he had looked at him after the first. 

Those of the dogs that remained, and there were about 
twenty of them, had followed the boar and flung them- 
selves upon his body, trying vainly to tear the skin all 
bristling with quills, which made an armor almost as im- 
penetrable as steel. 

"You will see," said Roland, wiping the blood from 
his face and hands with a fine linen handkerchief, ^'that 
they will eat him, and your knife with him." 

" My knife 1 " repeated Sir John. 

" It is sheathed in him," said Roland. 

" Ah," said the boy, " there is nothing to be seen of it 
but the handle." 

Darting towards the animal, Edward pulled out the 
knife, which was, as he had said, buried in the flesh 
up to the hilt. The sharp weapon, directed by a cool 
eye and held by a strong hand, had gone straight to the 
heart. 

VOL. r. — 10 



146 



THE COMPANIONS OF^ JEHU. 



There were three other wounds on the hoar's hody. 
The first, which had been made by the boy's weapon, was 
indicated by a bloody furrow traced above the eye, the 
ball having had too little force to pierce the skull. The 
second came from Sir John's first shot; the ball had 
glanced along the animal's side. The third had gone 
through his body, after he was dead. 



AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 



147 



CHAPTER XIV. 

AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 

The chase was finished, and night had fallen ; the next 
thing was to get back to the chateau. The horses were 
only about fifty feet away ; their impatient neighings could 
be distinctly heard, seeming to ask if their riders had 
doubted their courage in not allowing them to take part 
in the fray. 

Edward was determined to drag the boar to them, load, 
it upon the saddle, and take it to the chateau ; but Roland 
persuaded him that it would be much simpler to send 
two men with a litter for it. This was also Sir John's 
opinion, and Edward, who was constantly pointing to the 
wound in the head, and saying, " That was my shot ! I 
did that ! " was forced to yield to the majority. 

The three hunters regained their horses, mounted them, 
and in less than ten minutes reached the Chateau of 
i!^'oires-Fontaines. 

Mme. de Montrevel was on the steps, watching for 
them. The poor mother had been there for more than an 
hour, trembling lest some harm had befallen one or the 
other of her sons. As soon as Edward saw her, he started 
at a gallop, shouting through the gate, — 

" Mamma, we have killed a boar as big as a donkey. 
I shot him in the head ; you can see the place where 
my ball went. Roland stuck his hunting-knife in him up 
to the hilt ; my lord shot him twice. Quick ! quick ! 
send some men for him ! Don't be frightened because 



148 



THE COMPANIONS OF^ JEHU. 



Roland is all covered with blood ; it is the animal's blood. 
Roland has not a scratch." 

All this was said with Edward's habitual volubility, 
while Mme. de Montrevel hurriedly crossed the space be- 
tween the house and the road, and opened the gate. She 
wanted to lift Edward down, but he leaped to the ground 
first, and from there clung to her neck. Roland and Sir 
John arrived just then, and at the same moment Amelia 
appeared upon the doorstep. 

Edward left his mother mourning over Roland, who, all 
covered with blood as he was, was a fearful object, and 
ran to tell his sister the same story which he had related 
to his mother. Amelie listened to it in an absent-minded 
way, which doubtless wounded Edward's self-love, for he 
soon ran down to the kitchen to tell Michel, who was sure 
to be a good listener. 

Michel was, in fact, highly interested ; but when Edward, 
who had described the place where tlie boar lay, told him 
that Roland wanted to send some men to get the animal, 
he shook his head. 

"What!" exclaimed Edward, ''would you refuse to 
obey my brother? " 

" God forbid. Master Edward ! and Jacques shall start 
instantly for Montagnac." 

" Are you afraid he will not find any one 1 " 

" Oh, he could find ten men as easy as one ; but the 
trouble is the time of night and the place w^here it lies. 
You say it is near the pavilion of the charter-house ? " 

" Not twenty steps away." 

" I would rather it were a league away," returned 
Michel, shaking his head. " But never mind ; we will 
send for them without telling them where or why ; and 
when they get here, we will leave it to your brother to 
persuade them." 



AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 



149 



"All right! let them come. I will persuade them 
myself.'^ 

" Oh," groaned Michel, " if I did not have this plaguy- 
sprain I would go myself; but the trip to-day has not 
done me any good. Jacques! Jacques!" 

Jacques came. Edward stayed not only while the order 
was given to the young man to go to Montagnac, but until 
he had fairly gone. Then he went upstairs to follow 
Roland and Sir John's example, — to make his toilet. 

As might have been expected, the conversation at table 
was entirely about the day's adventures. Edward asked 
no better fun than to talk about them ; and Sir John, 
amazed at Roland's courage, skill, and luck, supplemented 
Edward's story. 

Mme. de Montrevel trembled at each detail, and yet in- 
sisted upon hearing them twenty times. The clearest 
detail that she gathered from it all was that Roland had 
saved Edward's life. 

" Have you thanked him 1 " she asked the boy. 

" Whom]" 

" Your brother." 

" What for 1 " demanded Edward. " Would n't I have 
done the same thing in his place 1 " 

" What will you have, madam ] " said Sir John. " You 
are a gazelle, and you have unwittingly given birth to a 
race of lions." 

Amelie had listened attentively to the story, partic- 
ularly when she found that the hunters had been near the 
monastery. From that moment she had listened uneasily, 
scarcely drawing a long breath until she heard that the 
hunters, having no reason to proceed farther after the 
boar's death, had returned to their horses. 

After dinner it was announced that Jacques had re- 
turned from Montagnac with two peasants, who wanted to 



150 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



know the exact spot where the animal had been left. 
Roland rose to tell them, but Mme. de Montrevel, who 
could not bear to lose sight of her son, said, turning to- 
wards the servant, — 

" Let the men come in here ; it is useless to disturb 
yourself for that." 

Five minutes later the two peasants entered, twisting 
their caps in their hands. 

" My men," said Roland, " I want you to go to the 
forest of Seillon to get a boar that we have killed." 

" That can be done," said one of the peasants ; and 
he looked questioningly at his companion. 

" Yes, we can do that," said the other. 

" You may rest assured," said Roland, that you will 
not have your trouble for nothing." 

" Oh, we don't worry about that," replied one of the 
men ; " we know you, Monsieur de Montrevel." 

" Yes," said the other, we know that you don't make 
persons work for nothing, any more than your father did. 
If all the aristocrats had been like you, there would have 
been no revolution, Monsieur Louis." 

"No, indeed, there would not have been any," said the 
other, who seemed to be there for the purpose of echoing 
everything his companion said. 

" Now, it only remains to hear where the animal is," 
said the first peasant. 

" Yes, we must hear where it is," repeated the second. 

" Oh, it will not be difficult to find." 

''So much the better." 
You know where the pavilion in the forest is 1 " 

" Which one 1 " 

^' Yes, which one 1 " 

" The one belonging to the charter-house of Seillon." 
The two peasants looked at each other. 



AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 



151 



" Well, you will find it about twenty steps from the 
front of the pavilion, on the Genoud side of the wood." 
The two peasants looked at each other again. 
" Hum ! " said one. 
" Hum ! " repeated his faithful echo. 
" What do you mean by ' hum ' 1 " asked Roland. 
« Well — 

"Come, explain yourselves ; what is the matter 1" 
" We should be a great deal better pleased if it had 
been at the other end of the forest." 
^'Whyr' 

" That 's so," said the other peasant. 

" But why at the other end of the forest?" repeated 
Roland, impatiently ; it is three leagues from here to the 
other end of the forest, while you have scarcely a league 
to go to the place where the boar is." 

"Yes," said the first peasant, " but the place where the 
boar is — " And he hesitated and shook his head. 

" Just so ! " said the second. 

"Just whatr' 

" It is a little too near the monastery." 

" I did not say the monastery ; I said the pavilion." 

" It is all the same. You know, Monsieur Louis, that 
there is an underground passage which goes from the 
monastery to the pavilion." 

" Oh, there is one, surely," echoed the other man. 
' "Well," said Roland, "and what have the pavilion, 
the monastery, and the underground passage to do with 
our boar 1 " 

" The animal is in a bad place." 

" Yes, a bad place," repeated the second peasant. 

" Will you explain yourselves, you rascals 1 " exclaimed 
Roland, growing angry, while his mother began to get un- 
easy, and Amelie paled visibly. 



152 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" I beg your pardon, Monsieur Louis," said the peasant, 
" we are not rascals ; we are God-fearing people, tLat 's 
all." 

" Confound it all ! " exclaimed Roland, " I fear God, 
too. What of it ? " 

" We don't care to have any dealings with the devil." 

^'1^0, no, no," said the second peasant. 

''With his own kind," continued the peasant, "one 
man is as good as another." 

" Sometimes better/' supplemented his companion. 

" But with supernatural beings, phantoms, and spec- 
tres — no, I thank you ! " continued the first peasant. 

" No, I thank you," repeated the second. 

"Mamma, sister," asked Eoland, addressing the two 
ladies, " in the name of Heaven, do you understand what 
these two idiots are saying ? " 

" Idiots ! '* repeated the first peasant, " perhaps so ; but 
it is none the less true that Pierre Marey got his back 
wrenched just for looking over the monastery wall. To 
be sure it was on a Saturday, which is the witches' 
Sabbath." 

" And they have never been able to twist it back again," 
affirmed the other peasant ; " so that he has to carry his 
face backwards, and look at what passes behind him." 

" Oh," said Sir John, " this is getting interesting. I like 
ghost stories." 

" My sister Amelie does not seem to be of the same 
opinion," said Edward. 

" What do you mean 1 " 

" Look, brother Roland, how pale she is ! " 

" Mademoiselle certainly seems to be ill," said Sir John. 

" I ! not at all," said Amelie. "But do you not think it 
is rather warm here, Mamma?" And Amelie wiped her 
forehead, which was covered with perspiration. 



AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 



153 



" ISTo," replied Mme. de Montrevel. 

" However," persisted Amelie, " if I did not fear to 
make you uncomfortable, I should ask permission to open 
a window." 

" Do so, my child." 

Amelie rose quickly to take advantage of the permis- 
sion, and, almost tottering, went to open a window over- 
looking the garden. When she had opened it, she 
remained leaning upon the sill, half hidden by the 
curtains. 

" Ah," she said, " here, at least, one can breathe." 
Sir John rose to offer her his salts, but she said 
quickly, — 

"No, no, my lord, I thank you; but I am much 
better." 

"Well, well," said Roland, '*the question is, what 
about our boar 1 " 

" We will go and get your boar to-morrow, Monsieur 
Louis." 

"That's so," said the second peasant. "To-morrow 
morning it will be daylight." 

" And if you went this evening — " 
" Oh, to go this evening — " 

The peasant looked at his companion, and they both 
shook their heads. 

" We can't go this evening." 
" Cowards ! " 

" Monsieur Louis, it is not cowardice to be afraid," said 
the first peasant. 

"iSTo, that is not cowardice," said the second. 

"Ah," said Roland, "T should like to have someone 
besides you prove to me that it was not cowardice to be 
afraid." 

" Well, it is according to the thing one is afraid of, 



154 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Monsieur Louis; if any one should give me a good hedg- 
ing-bill and a club, I should not be afraid of a wolf ; if 
any one should give me a good gun, I should not be 
afraid of a man, even though I should know that man 
was trying to assassinate me." 

"Yes," said Edward; "but you are afraid of a ghost, 
even though it were the ghost of a monk.'' 

" Little Monsieur Edward," said the peasant, " let your 
brother speak ; you are not old enough yet to joke about 
these things." 

" No," added the other peasant ; " wait until you have 
a beard on your chin, my little master." 

" I have no beard on my chin," replied Edward, draw- 
ing himself up ; " but for all that, if I were strong enough 
to carry the boar, I would go alone and get him, whether 
it were day or night." 

"You may do it if you like, my young master ; but my 
mate and I would not do it for a louis." 

" Would you do it for two 1 " asked Roland, to try 
them. 

" Neither for two nor for four nor for ten, Monsieur de 
Montrevel. Ten louis are good, but what should I do with 
ten louis if I had a twisted neck 1 " 

" Yes, a twisted neck like Pierre Marey," added the 
other peasant. 

" Your ten louis would not feed my wife and children 
for the rest of their days, would they 1 " 

" And then again, when you say ten louis, it means 
really only five," added the other peasant ; "because you 
know I should have fiv& of them." 

" Then there are ghosts in the pavilion asked Roland. 

" I did not say in the pavilion, — I am not sure about 
the pavilion, — but in the charter-house — " 

" You are sure there are some in the charter-house 1 " 



AN UNPOPULAR ERRAND. 



155 



" Oh, yes, certainly." 

*' Have you seen them ? " 

" I have n't, but there are those who have." 

"Your mate here^' asked the young officer, turning 
towards the second peasant. 

" I have not seen the ghosts, but I have seen flames ; 
and Claud Philippon has heard chains." 

"Ah, there are flames and chains, then?" 

" Yes ; and I have seen the flames myself," said the first 
peasant. 

" And Claud Philippon has heard the chains," repeated 
the other. 

" Very well, my friends, very well," said Roland, 
mockingly ; " then you will not go this evening at any 
price 1 " 

" Not at any price." 
Not for all the gold in the world." 

" And you will go to-morrow by daylight ? " 

" Monsieur Louis, before you are up in the morning the 
boar shall be here." 

" It will be here before you are up," repeated the echo. 

"Well," said Eoland, "come and see me the day after 
to-morrow." 

Certainly, Monsieur Louis ; what do you want us to 
do]" 

" Never mind ; come." 
" Oh, we will come." 

" Any time that you say ' come,' you will not expect us 
in vain, Monsieur Louis." 

" Well, I will give you some news then." 
''What about?" 
" The ghosts." 

Amelie uttered a stifled cry, which Mme. de Montrevel 
alone heard. Roland shook hands with the two peasants, 



156 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



•who ran against each other at the door, where they both 
tried to go out at once. 

There was no more talk during the rest of the evening, 
either of the charter-house, the pavilion, or the super- 
natural guests, whether spectres or ghosts, that haunted 
them. 



A STRONG MIND. 



157 



CHAPTER XV. 

A STRONG MIND. 

When ten o'clock sounded, each one in the Chateau of 
No ires-Fontaines had gone to bed, or at least retired to 
his room. 

Two or three times during the evening, Amelie had ap- 
proached Roland, as if she had something to say to him ; 
but each time the words had died upon her lips. When 
they left the salon, she was leaning on his arm, and al- 
though Roland's room was on the floor above her own, 
she went with him to his very door. Roland kissed her 
good-night and shut the door, saying that he was very 
tired. 

However, in spite of this declaration, Roland, after he 
entered his room, did not proceed with his preparations 
for bed ; he went to the place where he kept his weapons, 
drew out a magnificent pair of pistols from the manufac- 
tory of Versailles, which had been given to his father by 
the Convention, worked the hammers, and blew down the 
barrels to see that there were no old loads in them. They 
were in excellent condition. After which, he placed them 
side by side on the table, softly opened tlie door of his 
room, looked towards the staircase to see if any one were 
watching, and finding that corridor and staircase were de- 
serted, he went and knocked at Sir John's door. 

"Come in ! " said the Englishman. Sir John had not 
begun his preparations for bed, either. " I understood, 
from a sign you made me," said Sir John, " that you had 



158 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



sometliing to say to me, and as you see, I waited for 
you." 

Certainly I have sometliing to tell you," said Roland, 
gayly, stretching himself out in an armchair. 

" My friend," said the Englishman, " I am l)eginning 
to know you ; when I see you as gay as that, I am like 
your peasants, — I am afraid." 

"You heard what they said ]" 

" You mean their magniticent ghost-story ? I have a 
place in England where ghosts come sometimes." 

" Did you ever see them, my lord]" 

'^Yes, when I was a little fellow; unfortunately, hy 
the time I had grown up the ghosts had disappeared." 

" That 's the way with ghosts," said Eoland, gayly ; 
"they go and come. Was I not fortunate to get home 
just as there are ghosts in the monastery of Seillon ? " 

Yes," said Sir John, it was very fortunate ; but are 
you sure there are any there ? " 

" No ; but by day after to-morrow I shall know what 
to think." 

" What do you mean 1 " 

" I intend to pass to-morrow night there." 

" Oh, will you allow me to accompany you 1 " 
I should be very glad to have you, my lord ; but un- 
fortunately it will be impossible." 

" Impossible'? why V 

"Are you acquainted with the peculiarities of ghosts, 
my lord ? " asked Roland, gravely. 
"No." 

"Well, I am. Ghosts will not show themselves ex- 
cept under certain conditions." 
"What are they?" 

" Well, for example, in Italy and Spain, which are es- 
sentially superstitious countries, they don't have a ghost 
once in ten, twenty, a hundred years." 



A STRONG MIND. 



159 



" And how do you account for the absence of ghosts 
among them 1 " 

I attribute it to the lack of fogs, my lord." 
" Ah ] " 

" l^ot a doubt of it. You see the atmosphere of ghosts 
is fog. In Scotland, Denmark, and England, countries 
that are always foggy, they are surfeited with ghosts. 
There is the ghost of Hamlet's father, the ghost of Banquo, 
the ghosts of the victims of Eichard III. In Italy tliey 
have only one ghost, that of Cgesar ; and where did he 
appear to Brutus? At Philippi in Macedonia, and in 
Thrace, which is the Denmark of Greece, the Scotland of 
the Orient, where the fog made Ovid so melancholy that 
he entitled his very verses * Tristes.' Why did Virgil 
make the ghost of Anchises appear to iEneas 1 Because 
Virgil was from Mantua. Do you know Mantua 1 — a 
country of marshes, a regular fen, a manufactory of rheu- 
matism, an atmosphere of vapors, — consequently a hot- 
bed of ghosts." 

" Go on, I am listening." 

" Have you seen the borders of the Rhine 1 " 

" Yes." 

" In Germany, is it not ? " 
"Yes." 

"Another country of fairies, undines, sylphs, and con- 
sequently ghosts, since the greater includes the less, and 
every bit of it caused by fogs. But in Italy or Spain, 
where would the ghosts take refuge 1 There is not the 
least little bit of fog there. And therefore if I were in 
Spain or Italy, I should not even attempt to-morrow 
night's adventure." 

" But all this does not explain why you refuse my com- 
pany," insisted Sir John. 

" Wait. I have explained to you why ghosts do not 



160 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



venture into certain countries, for want of certain atmos- 
pheric conditions ; now let me explain what must be done, 
if one would see them." 

*' Explain ! explain ! " said Sir John. " I would rather 
hear you talk than any one I know." 

Sir John stretched himself out on a sofa, and prepared 
to enjoy the improvisations of the fantastic mind which 
he had already seen under so many aspects during the 
last few days. 

Roland bowed his thanks. " "Well, I will tell you. I 
have heard so much about ghosts in my life that I know 
the rogues as well as if I had made them. Why do ghosts 
show themselves 1 " 

" Do you ask me that 1 " said Sir John. 

" Yes, I ask you." 

"I must confess that, not having made a study of 
ghosts like yourself, I am not in a position to give you a 
positive answer." 

"My dear lord, ghosts show themselves for the purpose 
of frightening the people to whom they appear." 

"N"ot a doubt of it." 

" And if they do not frighten those to whom they ap- 
pear, they are frightened by them. There is M. de Tu- 
renne, for example, whose ghosts turned out to be 
impostors. Did you ever hear that story 1 " 

" No." 

" I will tell it to you some day ; we will not bother 
with it now. That is the reason that when they do make 
up their minds to appear, which is very seldom, they 
choose stormy nights, with thunder, lightning, and wind ; 
that is their stage-setting." 

" You certainly must be right." 

" Wait ; there are moments when the bravest will feel 
cold shivers. Before I had an aneurism, I felt them my- 



A STRONG MIND. 



161 



self, many times, when I saw the flash of sabres over my 
head, and heard in my ears the thunder of cannon. To be 
sure, since I have had this aneurism I have sought the 
flash of steel and the roar of cannon ; but there is a 
chance that the ghosts may not know this fact, and that 
they may think I will be afraid of them." 

"While it is impossible that you should be, is it nof? " 
said Sir John. 

" How can it be otherwise 1 When instead of fearing 
death a rnan believes, whether right or wrong, that he has 
a reason for seeking it, there is no occasion for him to be 
afraid ; but, as I said, it is possible that the ghosts, al- 
though they know a great deal, may not know this. But 
there is one thing that they do know ; and that is, that ex- 
ternal objects have a great deal to do with augmenting or 
diminishing fear. For example, where do ghosts prefer to 
appear] Why, in out-of-the-way places, in cemeteries, in 
old cloisters, in ruins, in subterranean passages, because 
the very siglit of these localities predisposes the mind to 
fear. By what is their appearance heralded 1 By tlie 
rattling of chains, by groanings, by sighs, because there 
is nothing cheerful about all this. They take good care 
not to appear in the midst of a brilliant light, or after 
dance-music ; no, fear is an abyss to which a man de- 
scends step by step, until vertigo seizes him, his foot 
sHps, and he falls with closed eyes to the foot of the pre- 
cipice. Read the history of all ghosts, and you will 
see how they proceed : at first the sky is obscured, 
the thunder rolls, the wind howls, the doors and win- 
dows creak, and the lamp, if there be one, flickers, pales, 
and dies. Complete obscurity ! in the midst of which 
comes the sound of wails, groans, and clanking chains. 
Finally the door opens and the ghost appears. All 
the apparitions that I have read about have been pro- 
ve l. I. — 11 



162 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



duced under similar circumstarces. Am I not right, 
Sir Johnr' 
"Perfectly." 

"And did you ever know a ghost to appear to two per- 
sons at once 1 " 

" I don't believe I ever read or heard of such a thing." 

" There is a very simple reason for it, my lord ; when 
two persons are together, they are not afraid of anything. 
Fear is a strange thing independent of the will, and need- 
ing isolation, shadows, and solitude. A ghost is not more 
dangerous than a cannon-ball ; and yet a soldier is not 
afraid of a cannon-ball in daylight, when he has the 
companionsliip of his comrades, and can touch elbows 
with them ; he marches straight at the piece, and is either 
killed or he kills. But that is not what the ghosts want ; 
that is why they never appear to two persons at once. 
That is why I want to go alone to the monastery, my 
lord ; your presence would prevent the most determined 
ghost from appearing. If I see nothing, or if I see any- 
thing that will pay me fur my trouble, you shall have 
your turn to-morrow. Will that suit you 1 " 

" Perfectly. But why can I not go first 

" Well, first, because the idea did not occur to you, and 
being my own I want the benefit of it ; in the next place, 
because 1 belong to the region, and having known these 
monks while they were alive, I shall have a better chance 
of seeing them now ; and finally because, being acquainted 
with localities, if it comes to flight or pursuit I can have 
a better chance than you in attack or retreat. Are these 
reasons good ones, my lord 1 " 

" I^'othing could be better ; but I may go the next 
night r' 

" The next night, and the night after that, and every 
night and day too, if you want to. What I insist upon is 



A STRONG MIND. 



163 



the first. And now/' continued Roland, rising, " this is 
just between ourselves, is it not 1 Not a word to any one 
else ; the ghosts might get wind of it, and act accord- 
ingly. We must not let the rogues get the better of us ; 
that would be too absurd." 

" Make your mind easy about that. You will take 
weapons, will you not?" 

" If I thought I should find only ghosts, I would go 
with my hands in my pockets ; but I can't help renjem- 
bering M. de Turenne's impostors, and therefore I shall 
take pistols." 

" Do you want mine 1 " 

" No, I thank you. Although those are excellent, I 
have almost made up my mind never to touch them 
again." Then with a bitter smile, he added : " They 
bring me bad luck. Good-night, my lord ; I must sleep 
with all my might to-night, so that I can keep awake to- 
morrow night." 

And after heartily shaking the Englishman's hand, Ro- 
land left him and went to his own room. But when he 
had reached it, he was struck by the fact that his door, 
which he had closed, was open. When he entered, how- 
ever, the sight of his sister explained the mystery. 

" Why ! " he said, half astonished, half uneasy, " is it 
you, Amelie'?" 

" Yes, it is I," replied the young girl. Then approach- 
ing her brother, and holding up her forehead for him to 
kiss, she said in a supplicating tone : " You will not go, 
will you, dear 1 " 

"Go where r' asked Roland. 

"To the monastery 1" 

" Who told you I was going there 1 " 

" Oh, it was not difficult for one who knew you to 
guess it." 



164 



THE COxMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" And why do you not want me to go there 1 " 

" I am afraid that something will happen to you." 

" Ah, so you believe in the ghosts 1 " said Roland, look- 
ing keenly at Amelie. 

She lowered her eyes, and Roland felt her hand tremble 
in his. 

" See here ! " said Roland, " the Amelie whom I used 
to know, the daughter of General de Montrevel, the sister 
of Roland, was too intelligent to yield to vulgar terrors. 
It is not possible that you believe all these stories of 
ghosts, chains, flames, and apparitions 1 " 

" If I did believe them, dear, my fears would be less 
great. If ghosts exist, they are disembodied spirits, who 
could not retain material hates. 'Now, whj should a ghost 
hate you, Roland, who never did harm to any one 1 " 

" You forgot those whom I have killed in the army, or 
in duels." 

Amelie shook her head. 

" I do not fear those." 

"What do you fear, then?" 

The young girl lifted her beautiful eyes, all filled with 
tears, to Roland, and throwing her arms around his neck, 
she said : " I do not know, Roland, but I am afraid." 

The young man with gentle violence raised his sister's 
head from his breast, and kissing her eyelids gently and 
tenderly, he said : ''You do not believe that those whom 
I shall have to fight to-morrow are ghosts, do you?" 

" Brother, do not go to the monastery," repeated Amelie, 
pleadingly, evading the question. 

"Our mother told you to ask this of me, — confess 
now, Amelie." 

" Oh, no ! Mamma has not said a word ; it was I who 
guessed that you would go there." 

" Well, Amelie/' said Roland, firmly, " if I have made 



A STRONG MIND. 



165 



up my mind to go there, you ought to know that I shall 

" Even if I beg yon with clasped hands, brother ? " said 
Amelie, almost piteously; "even if I beg you upon my 
knees r' 

And she sank to the floor at her brother's feet. 

" Oh, women ! women ! " murmured Roland ; " inex- 
plicable creatures, whose words are a mystery, whose 
mouth never reveals the secrets of their hearts, who weep, 
beg, and tremble — for what ? God knows ! men don't ! 
I shall go, Amelie, because I have resolved to do so ; and 
when I have once taken a resolution, nothing in the world 
can shake it. Now kiss me, and fear nothing, and I will 
tell you a great secret." 

Amelie raised her head, and fixed upon Eoland a look at 
once questioning and despairing. 

" It is more than a year now," continued her brother, 
" since I have known that I am unfortunate enough not 
to be able to die j so cheer up, and don't be uneasy." 

Eoland pronounced these words so mournfully that 
Amelie, who until then had been able to restrain her tears, 
went sobbing to her room. 

The young officer, after having assured himself that his 
sister had shut her door, closed his own, murmuring as he 
did so, "We will see who will give up first, — I or 
destiny." 



166 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE GHOST. 

The next night, at about the same hour, the young 
officer, after having assured himself that every one in the 
chateau had gone to bed, softly opened his door, descended 
the staircase with bated breath, gained the vestibule, noise- 
lessly drew the bolts of the door, descended the steps, 
turned around to assure himself that everything was quiet, 
and reassured by the darkened windows, advanced to the 
gate. The hinges had doubtless been oiled during the 
day, for they turned without the least noise, and the gate 
closed silently behind him, wdiile he advanced rapidly 
along the road from Pont-d'Ain to Bourg. Scarcely had 
he taken a hundred steps when the clock of St.-Just 
struck once ; that of Montagnac replied to it like a brazen 
echo. It was half-past ten. 

So rapidly did the young man walk that it would take 
him scared}^ twenty minutes to reach the charter-house of 
Seillou, particularly if, instead of going around the wood, 
he took the path that led directly to the monastery. He 
had been too familiar from his youth with every path in 
the forest of Seillon to make a detour which would take 
him ten minutes longer, and he chose unhesitatingly the 
path through the woods, arriving in five minutes more on 
the other side of the wood. Once there, he had only to 
cross a little plain to reach the wall of the orchard be- 
longing to the monaster}^ It took him scarcely five 
minutes. 



THE GHOST. 



167 



At the foot of the wall Koland stopped, but only for a 
few seconds. He unfastened his cloak, rolled it into a 
wad, and threw it over the wall. Without his cloak lie 
was dressed in a velvet coat, white leather breeches, and 
top-boots. The coat was held close to his body by a belt, 
in which were stuck two pistols. A broad-brimmed hat 
covered liis face, completely shadowing it. 

With the same rapidity with which be had rid himself 
of the garment which would impede his ascent of the 
wall, Roland began to scale it. His foot sought a crevice 
in the stones, which he was not long in finding ; he sprang 
up, seized the coping, and leaped down on the other side 
without having even touched the top of the wall over 
which he had sprung. He picked up his cloak, put it 
over his shoulders, fastened it again, and going through 
the orchard, reached with long steps a little door, which 
communicated between the orchard and the cloister. As 
he crossed the threshold of this little door, eleven o'clock 
struck. 

Roland stopped and counted the strokes, and then 
slowly made the tour of the monastery, looking and lis- 
tening. He saw notliing, and heard not the least noise. 
The monastery was the picture of desolation and solitude ; 
the doors of the cells, the chapel, and the refectory were 
all open. In the refectory, an immense room where the 
tables were still standing, Roland saw five or six bats 
flying about ; a frightened screech-owl escaped through a 
broken window, perched upon a tree a few feet away, and 
uttered its gloomy cry. 

" Good ! " said Roland, aloud ; " I think I must make 
my headquarters here ; bats and screech-owls are tlie 
advance-guard of ghosts," 

The sound of the human voice rising in the midst of the 
solitude, the shadows, and the desolation had something 



168 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



unusual and mournful about it, which would have been 
calculated to strike terror to the heart of the speaker if it 
had not been one who, like Roland, did not know what 
fear was. He sought some place where he could see the 
whole room at a glance. An isolated table, placed upon a 
sort of platform at one of the extremities of the refec- 
tory, which had doubtless been used by the superior of 
the convent either as a place from which to give holy 
readings during meals, or else to take his own meals 
separate from the others, seemed to him to possess all the 
advantages that he sought. Leaning against the wall, he 
could not be surprised from behind ; while, when he once 
became accustomed to the gloom, he could see all parts 
of the room at a glance. He next looked about for a 
seat, and at a few steps from the table he found the over- 
turned stool of the solitary reader. Seating himself be- 
fore the table, and unfastening his cloak in order to give 
more freedom to his movements, he took his pistols from 
his belt, put one before him, and striking three times upon 
the table with the butt of the other, he said aloud, — 

^'The seance is open, and the spirits may enter." 

Those who have been with a companion after nightfall 
in a cemetery or church, and who have involuntarily low- 
ered their voices, feeling the need of speaking softly and 
seriously in such places, can alone understand what a 
strange impression, in the midst of the stillness, that 
mocking voice would have produced upon one who had 
chanced to hear it. It vibrated for a moment in the dark- 
ness, which seemed to thrill with it ; then it grew fainter, 
and died away without echo, escaping through the aper- 
tures made by the wings of Time in his flight. 

As Roland had foreseen, his eyes gradually became 
accustomed to the shadows, and now, thanks to the pale 
light of the moon, which had just risen, and which shone 



THE GHOST. 



169 



into the refectory in long, bluish lines through the broken 
windows, he could distinctly see from one end of the 
immense room to the other. 

Although Eoland was absolutely without fear, he was not 
without suspicion, and his keen ear caught the slightest 
noise. He heard the half-hour strike. In spite of him- 
self, the sound sent a shudder through hifn ; it came from 
the convent church itself. In this ruin, where death 
reigned supreme, how had a clock, the pulse of time, 
remained alive 1 

" Aha ! " he said to himself; " that proves that I shall 
see something." 

The words were spoken almost in a wliisper ; the majesty 
of the place and the silence had had their effect upon 
his heart, which was almost as hard as the tongue that 
had just sent forth that appeal of time against eternity. 

The minutes slipped away, one after the other. A 
cloud must have passed over the moon, for it seemed to 
Roland that the shadows thickened. Then, as midnight 
drew near, he flmcied he heard a thousand almost imper- 
ceptible noises, confused and different, which doubtless 
came from that nocturnal world that wakes when the 
other sleeps. Nature desires no suspension of life, even 
for sleep ; she has made her nocturnal universe as she 
has made her daily world, — from the mosquito humming 
around the pillow of a sleeping man to the lion roaming 
about the Arab's tent. 

But Roland, the camp sentry, the sentinel in the desert, 
the hunter and soldier, was well acquainted with all these 
noises. They were not noticed by him, when suddenly 
the tones of the clock were added to them, as it rang out 
for the second time above his head. This time it was 
midnight ; he counted the twelve strokes, one after an- 
other. The last one came, trembled upon the air like 



170 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



a bird with bronze wings, then died away slowly, sadly, 
mournfully. 

At the same time it seemed to Eoland that he heard a 
groan. He listened attentively. He heard it again, 
nearer. He stood up, with his hands leaning upon the 
table, the palm of each covering the butt-end of a pistol. 
He heard a swishing like that made by a long dress 
trailing over grass. It was at his left, and not ten feet 
away. He started up, as if moved by a spring. At the 
same moment a shadow appeared upon the threshold of 
the immense room. It resembled one of those old statues 
which are seen upon tombs ; it was enveloped in an im- 
mense shroud, which trailed behind it. 

For a moment Roland doubted his own eyes. Had the 
preoccupation of his mind caused him to see what was not 
there 1 AYas he the dupe of his senses, the sport of those 
hallucinations which medicine acknowledges but cannot 
explain ] A groan uttered by the apparition caused his 
doubts to vanish. 

"Ah, upon my word!" he exclaimed, bursting out 
laughing ; " how are you, friend ghost ?" 

The spectre stopped, and extended its hand towards the 
young officer. "Roland ! Roland ! " it said, in dull tones, 
" it were a pity to pursue the dead even to the tombs 
which you have caused them to enter." And it continued 
on its way without hastening its steps. 

Roland, for a moment astonished, descended from his 
platform and began a resolute chase after the ghost. It 
was difficult to make headway, encumbered as the place 
was with stones, overturned benches, and tables. But it 
seemed as though an invisible path was traced for the 
spectre among all these obstacles, for it walked steadily on 
without stopping. Each time it passed before a window 
the outside light, feeble though it was, reflected upon the 



THE GHOST. 



171 



shroud and outlined the spectre, which, when the window 
was passed, was lost in the obscurity, only to reappear 
again, and be again lost. 

Eoland, with his eyes fixed upon the figure before him, 
fearing to lose it if he ceased to look at it, could not keep 
watch of the heaped up obstacles before him. At each 
step he stumbled, and the phantom gained upon hira. It 
reached the door opposite that by which it had entered. 
Roland saw the entrance to a dark corridor, and feared 
that the spectre was about to escape him. 

"Man or spectre, thief or monk," he said, "halt, or I 
fire ! " 

"You cannot kill the same body twice, and death has 
no hold upon the soul," replied the phantom, in a muffled 
voice. 

" Who are you 1 " asked Roland. 

" I am the ghost of him whom you violently sent out 
of the world." 

The young officer laughed his harsh, nervous laugh, 
which sounded still more frightful in the shades. " Upon 
my word," he said, " if you cannot give me any better 
proof than that, I shall not take the trouble to investigate, 
I warn you." 

" Remember the fountain of Vaucluse," said the spectre, 
in such feeble tones that the sentence seemed to fall from 
his mouth more like a sigh than like articulate words. 

For a moment Roland felt the perspiration starting out 
upon his forehead ; then by a strong effort he regained 
command over himself, and exclaimed threateningly : 
" For the last time, be you apparition or reality, if you 
do not wait for me, I will fire ! " 

The spectre continued on its way without seeming to 
hear. Roland stopped an instant to aim. The ghost was 
ten feet away from him ; Roland Avas a sure shot, and he 



172 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



had himself loaded the weapon a few moments before. 
When the spectre's figure was outlined, tall and white, 
against the gloomy background of the corridor, Eoland 
fired. 

The corridor was illuminated for an instant as if with a 
flash of lightning, and the spectre continued to advance 
without either hastening or retarding his steps. The dark- 
ness the next minute was all the more intense, by reason 
of the flash that had preceded it. The spectre had disap- 
peared in the solemn gloom. 

Roland darted forward in pursuit, passing his second 
pistol from his left hand to his right as he went. But short 
as had been his pause, the phantom had gained upon him. 
Roland saw it at the end of the corridor, clearly outlined 
against the night. He redoubled his speed, and came to 
the end of the corridor just as the spectre disappeared be- 
hind the door of the cistern. 

Roland increased his pace still more. He reached the 
threshold of the door, and it seemed to him that the spectre 
was sinking into the bowels of the earth. Only the upper 
part of its body was visible. 

" Were you the devil himself," said Roland, " I would 
follow you." And he discharged his second pistol, which 
filled with flame and smoke the cave in which the spectre 
was disappearing. 

When the smoke had disappeared, Roland looked in 
vain for the apparition. It had disappeared. Roland 
leaped down into the cave, with an exclamation of rage. 
He sounded the walls with his pistols, and stamped upon 
the ground ; but ground and stone gave forth the dull 
sound of solid objects. He tried to pierce the obscurity 
with his eyes, but it was impossible ; the little light 
which came from the moon stopped at the first steps of 
the pit. 



THE GHOST. 



173 



" Oh for a torch ! " he cried. 

There was no response; the only sound that he heard 
was the murmur of the brook as it flowed along near 
by. He saw that further search would be useless ; so he 
emerged from the pit, and once more loaded his pistols. 
He retraced his steps through the dark corridor to the 
immense refectory, and resumed the seat at the end of the 
silent hall, which he had left upon the appearance of 
the spectre. Then he waited. But the hours of the night 
sounded successively, until at length they became morning 
hours, and the first rays of daylight tinged faintly the 
walls of the cloister. 

" Well," he murmured, it is over for to-night ; per- 
haps I shall be more fortunate another time." 

Twenty minutes later Roland entered the Chateau of 
Noires-Fontaines. 



174 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

A SEARCH. 

Two persons awaited Roland's return, — one with anguish 
and the other with impatience. They were Amelie and 
Sir John. Neither of them had slept for a moment. 

Amelie gave no sign of her anxiety except by the 
sound of her door, which shut as Roland ascended the 
staircase. Roland heard it, and he had not the heart to 
pass so near his sister without reassuring her. 

Don't be uneasy, Amelie," he called ; " it is I." He 
could have no idea that his sister's fears were for another. 

Amelie darted from her room, clad in her dressing- 
gown. Her pallor and the dark circles beneath her eyes 
betrayed the fact that she had not closed her eyes that 
night. 

"Nothing has happened to you, Roland?" she asked, 
clasping her brother in her arms, and feeling of him 
solicitously. 

" Notliing." 

" Nor to any one else ? " 
" Nor to any one else." 
" And you saw nothing 1 " 
"I did not say that." 
" Oh, heavens ! what did you see % " 
" I will tell you later; in the mean time you may rest 
assured no one is hurt." 
"Ah, I am so relieved." 



A SEARCH. 



175 



"And now," he said, "if T might give you a piece of 
advice, little sister, it would be to go quietly to bed, and 
to sleep if possible until breakfast time. I am going to 
do the same, and I shall not need to be rocked in a 
cradle in order to go to sleep, either. Good-night, or 
rather, good-raorning." 

Roland kissed his sister tenderly, and affecting to be 
carelessly whistling a hunting-song, he went upstairs to 
the next floor. 

Sir John openly awaited him in the corridor. He went 
straight to the young man. "Weill" he asked. 

" Well, I did not make a complete failure of it." 

" You have seen a ghost 1 " 

" I have seen something which very much resembled 
one, at all events." 

« You will tell me about it 1 " 

" Oh, yes. I understand that you could not sleep with- 
out hearing it ; well, in a few words, this is what hap- 
pened." And Roland gave an exact and circumstantial 
account of his adventure. 

" Good ! " said Sir John. I hope you have left some- 
thing for me." 

" I am afraid," said Roland, " that I have left you the 
worst of it." 

Then, as Sir John persisted, going over each detail, and 
asking questions about localities, Roland said : " I will 
tell you what we will do. To-day, after breakfast, we will 
pay a visit to the monastery by daylight. This will not 
prevent you from going there to-night, and you can study 
localities by daylight. But tell no one." 

" Do I look like a braggart ? " asked Sir John. 

"No," said Roland, laughing, "indeed you do not. 
You are not a braggart, but I am a simpleton." And he 
went to his own room. 



176 



THE COMPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



After breakfast, the two raen 'lescencleJ the slope of the 
garden as if to visit the banks of tlie Reyssouse ; then 
they Avenr to the left, climbed the slope again at the end 
of forty feet, reached the high-road, crossed the vrood, and 
found themselves at the f jot of the monastery wall, at 
the very place where Eoland had scaled it on the previous 
Li_."]it. 

■'' IMy lord,"' said Eoland, this is the way." 

■'•Very well," said Sir John, '"let us go that way then.'' 
And slowly, but with an admiraljle str^-ngtn of wrist 
whicli showed him to be well grounded in gymnastics, 
the Englishman seized the coping of the'wall, seated him- 
self on the top, and slipped down again upon the other 
side. 

Eoland followed him with the swiftness of a man to 
whom the feat was an easy one. They were both upon 
the other side. 

The deserted aspect of the place was yet more notice- 
able by day than by night. The grass had grown knee 
hi_h in the paths ; the walls were covered witii vines so 
thick that the grapes could only die under the shadow of 
the leaves. In several places the wall had become dilapi- 
dated, and the ivy, that parasite rather than friend of 
ruins, was pushing its way upon all sides. As for the 
trees, — plums, peaches, and apricots, — they had grown 
with the liberty of the beeches and oaks of the forest, 
whose thickness and height they seemed to emulate, and 
the sap, entirely absorbed by the multipled and vigorous 
branches, only gave rare and inferior fruit. Two or three 
times Eoland and Sir John knew by the movement in the 
long grass before them that snakes, those rampant guests 
of solitude, had established a home there, and were flee- 
ing in astonishment at being disturbed. 

Eoland conducted his friend straight to the door leading 



A SEARCH. 



177 



from the orchard to the cloister ; but before entering it, 
he glanced at the dial of the clock, — that clock which 
went by night was stopped by day. From the cloister he 
passed to the refectory. There daylight revealed to him 
in their true aspect the objects which the darkness had 
clothed with the fantastic shapes of night. 

Koland showed Sir John the overturned stool, the table 
battered with the blows of his pistol, and the door by wdiich 
the ghost had entered. He took with Sir John the road he 
had followed in the track of the phantom ; he recognized 
the obstacles which had impeded his progress, but which 
could easily be surmounted by any one who had a pre- 
vious knowledge of the locality. When he came to the 
place w^iere he had fired, he found the wadding, but failed 
to see any trace of the bullet. The corridor went diagonally 
with the room, and the ball must either have left its mark 
upon the wall, or struck the phantom. And yet if the 
phantom had been struck, and had opposed a solid body, 
how was it that it had remained upright 1 How had it 
at least escaped being wounded ; and why, if it had been 
wounded, were there no traces of blood upon the ground '? 
There was neither trace of blood nor sign of bullet. 

Lord Tanlay was almost inclined to believe that his 
.friend had met with a veritable ghost. 

"Someone has been here since," said Roland, "and 
has picked u-p the ball." 

But if you shot at a man, why did the bullet not 
enter him"?" 

" That is simple enough : the man had a shirt of mail 
on under his shroud." 

It was possible, but Sir John shook his head as if 
he doubted it. It was easier to believe in a supernatural 
solution. 

They continued their investigation. They came to the 

VOL. I. — 12 



178 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



end of the corridor, and found themselves at the other 
extremity of the orchard. It was there that Eoland had 
once more seen his ghost, of whom he had momentarily 
lost sight under the dark arch. He went straight to the 
cistern ; he seemed to be still following the phantom, so 
little did he hesitate. There they found the obscurity of 
night made still more dense by the absence of all exterior 
reflection ; they could scarcely see even by daylight. 

Roland drew from beneath his mantle two torches a 
foot long, and struck a light with a flint and steel, and the 
torches flared up. Their object was to discover the passage 
by which the ghost had disappeared. They put their 
torches near the ground. The pit was paved with great 
blocks of freestone, which seemed to be perfectly joined 
to one another. 

Roland searched for the second bullet as persistently as 
he had done for the first. There was a loose stone be- 
neath his feet; and upon pushing it one side, he discov- 
ered a ring which, was cemented into the flagstone. 
Without saying anything, Roland put his hand through 
the ring, braced himself upon his feet, and pulled. The 
stone turned upon a pivot with an ease that showed that 
it was constantly in use. In turning, it disclosed the 
entrance to a subterranean passage. 

" Ah ! " said Roland, ^' this is where my spectre went." 
And he descended into the yawning aperture. 

Sir John went down after him. They followed the path 
which Morgan had taken on the night when he came to 
make his report, and at the end of the passage they found 
the gate leading to the burial vaults. 

Roland shook the gate. It was not locked, and it 
yielded to his touch. They crossed the underground ceme- 
tery, and reached the other gate. Like the first, it was 
unfastened. Roland was ahead. They went up a few 



A SEARCH. 



179 



steps, and found themselves in the choir of the chapel, 
where the scene between Morgan and the companions of 
Jehu had taken place; but the stalls were empty, the 
choir was solitary, and the altar, abandoned by worship, 
had no longer its flaring tapers and its holy cloth. 

It was evident to Eoland that the course of the false 
ghost, which Sir John persisted in believing to be a gen- 
uine one, had ended there. But whether the phantom 
were false or not. Sir John confessed that he must have 
stopped there. 

The Englishman reflected for a moment, and then said ; 
" Well, since it is my turn to watch to-night, and I have 
the right to choose my own position, I will watch here." 
And he indicated a sort of table made of the oaken 
foot which had formerly supported the eagle of the 
reading-desk. 

" Yes," said Eoland, with the same indifference which 
he would have shown if he had been in Sir John's place, 
" you will be very well placed ; but as you may find the 
stone sealed and the two gates shut to-night, suppose 
we look for some door which will conduct you directly 
here." 

At the end of five minutes they had found one. The 
door of an ancient sacristy opened upon the choir, and from 
this sacristy a ruined window gave a passage to the forest. 
The two men went out through the window, and found 
themselves in the thickest part of the wood, about twenty 
feet from the place where they had killed the boar. 

"Here we are," said Eoland; *' but, my lord, as it 
would be impossible for you to find your way by night in 
a forest where we can barely make a passage by day, I 
shall come with you to-night as far as here." 

" Yes," replied the other ; " but as soon as I have gone 
in, you must go away. I have not forgotten what you 



180 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



told me about the peculiarities of ghosts, and if they knew 
that you were onh^ a few feet from me they might hesi- 
tate to appear ; and since you have seen one, it is only 
fair that I should see one also." 

"1 will go away," said Roland; ^'you may make your 
mind easy. I have only one fear concerning you," he 
added laughing. 

^'What is that?" 

" It is that as an Englishman and a heretic they may 
not like you very well." 

" Oh," said Sir John, gravely, " what a pity it is that 
I have not time to change my faith before evening !" 

The two friends had seen all that there was to see, and 
they therefore returned to the chateau. No one, not even 
Amelie, seemed to suspect that their walk had had more 
than an ordinary significance. The day passed without 
question, and without apparent uneasiness ; indeed, when 
the two friends returned, it was already far advanced. 

While they sat at table, to Edward's great joy they 
planned another hunt. This hunt was the burden of con- 
versation during dinner, and for a part of the evening. 
At ten o'clock they all retired to their rooms, as was their 
custom. Eoland, however, was in that of Sir John. 

The contrast in the characters of the two friends showed 
itself plainly in their method of making preparations. 
Roland had made his joyously, as if for a party of pleas- 
ure ; Sir John made his gravely, as if for a duel. The 
pistols were loaded with the greatest care, and put into 
his belt ; and instead of a cloak, which might impede his 
movements, he wore over his coat an overcoat with a 
collar. 

At half-past ten they went out, observing the same pre- 
cautions which Roland had taken when he was by himself. 
At five minutes of eleven they were at the foot of the 



A SEARCH. 



181 



ruined window, whose fallen stones served as steps. 
There, according to their agreement, they were to sepa- 
rate. Sir John reminded Roland of the fact. 

" Yes," said the young man ; " what I agree to I will 
hold to. Only, in my turn, let me give you a piece of 
advice." 

"Welir^ 

" I did not find the bullets because some one had been 
to pick them up ; they picked them up so that I should 
not see the marks upon them.'^ 

" And what marks do you think were on them 1 " 

" Those of the links of a coat of mail. My ghost was 
an armed man." 

" What a pity ! " said Sir John. " I think the phantom 
would have been much nicer." Then, after a moment of 
silence, during which he uttered a sigh of profound regret 
at having to renounce the spectre, he said : " And what is 
your advice 1 " 

" Aim at the face." 

Sir John nodded, pressed the young officer's hand, 
climbed over the stones, entered the sacristy, and 
disappeared. 

" Good-night ! " cried Eoland. And with that indif- 
ference to danger which a soldier generally feels for him- 
self and his companions, Roland, as he had promised Sir 
John, took the road to the chateau. 



182 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE JUDGMENT. 

The next day Roland, who had not been able to fall asleep 
until nearly two o'clock in the morning, awoke at seven. 
"When he opened his eyes he collected his scattered 
thoughts, recalling what had passed on the previous night 
between himself and Sir John, and was astonished that 
the Englishman had not waked him upon his return. 
He dressed quickly, and went to knock at the door of Sir 
John's room, even at the risk of waking him from his first 
sleep. 

But Sir John made no response. Roland rapped more 
loudly. The same silence. This time a little uneasiness 
mingled with Roland's curiosity. The key was on the 
outside; the young officer opened the door, and cast a 
rapid glance around the room. Sir John was not there ; 
he had not returned. The bed was untouched. 

What had happened 1 There was not a moment to lose ; 
and knowing Roland's rapidity of decision as we do, we 
may be sure he lost no time. He darted back to his room, 
finished dressing, put his hunting-knife in his belt, slung 
his gun over his shoulder, and went out. No one was 
aw^ake except the chambermaid. Roland met her upon 
the stairs. 

" You may tell Mme. de Montrevel," he said, that I 
have gone for a turn in the forest of Seillon with my gun ; 
she need not be uneasy if my lord and I do not return at 



THE JUDGMENT. 



183 



breakfast time." And Eoland hurried rapidly away from 
the chateau. 

Ten minutes later the young man stood by the window 
where, at eleven o'clock on the previous evening, he had 
left Lord Tanlay. He listened : inside, no sound was to 
be heard ; outside, the ear of a hunter could recognize all 
those early morning murmurs which are made by game in 
the woods. Roland scaled the window with his usual 
agility, and hastened from the sacristy to the choir. A 
glance sufficed to assure him that not only the choir but 
the whole interior of the little chapel was empty. Had 
the ghosts caused the Englishman to take the opposite 
road to that which he himself had followed? It was 
possible. 

Eoland passed rapidly behind the altar, and reached the 
grating of the burial vaults. The grating was open. He 
went through it. The obscurity prevented him from see- 
ing into the depths of the place ; he called thrice for Sir 
John, but there was no reply. He reached the other 
grating. It was open, like the first. He entered the 
vaulted passage. But there, as it would be impossible for 
him in the midst of the darkness to use his gun, he put 
it into his shoulder belt, and took his hunting-knife in his 
hand instead. 

In groping about, Roland went all the time farther in 
without meeting any one ; and in proportion as he went 
forward the obscurity increased, showing that the slab of 
the cistern was shut. He reached thus the first step of 
the staircase, and went up until he touched the revolving 
slab with his head ; then with an effort he turned the 
stone. Eoland saw daylight once more. He darted into 
the cistern. The door which led into the orchard was 
open ; Roland went through it, and crossed that part of 
the orchard which lay between the cistern and the cor- 



18i 



THE COMPAXIOXS OF JEHU. 



ridor, at the other extremity of which he had fired upon 
his spectre. He crossed the corridor and found himself 
in the refectory. It was empt}'. As he had done in the 
burial vault, Roland called Sir John three times. The 
astonished echo, as if it had forgotten the sound of the 
human voice, gave a stammering reph'. 

It was not probable that Sir John had come here ; it 
would be better to return to the point of departure. 
Eoland passed again over the same route, and once more 
found himself in the choii' of the chapel. It was there 
that Sir John must have passed the night, and it was 
tliere that some trace of him should be found. 

Eoland advanced into the choir. He had scarcely en- 
tered it when a cry escaped him. A large blood-stain was 
at his feet, disfiguring the flagstones of the choir. On 
the other side of the choir, a few steps from where the 
marble was reddened beneath his feet, was a second stain, 
not less large, not less red, not less recent, which seemed 
to match the other. One of these stains was at the right, 
the other at the left, of the pedestal which was formerly 
used to hold the eagle of the lectern, — the pedestal be- 
fore which Sir John had said he would take his stand. 
Eoland approached the pedestal ; it was flowing with 
blood. It was evident that the drama had taken place 
there. It had been terrible, if one might judge from the 
traces it had left. 

Eoland, in his double character of hunter and soldier, 
was very clever at following a trail. He knew how to 
determine whether blood which was shed came from a 
dead man or a wounded one. The previous night had 
seen the fall of three dead or wounded men. Xow, what 
were the probabilities ? The two stains of blood in the 
choir, the one on the right and the one on the left, were 
probably the blood of Sir John's antagonists. The blood 



THE JUDGMENT. 



185 



on the pedestal was probably his own. Attacked upon 
both right and left, he had fired with both hands, and had 
killed or wounded a man with each shot ; hence the two 
blood-stains which reddened the pavement. Attacked in 
his own turn, he had been struck near the pedestal, and 
upon the pedestal his blood had gushed forth. 

At the end of five minutes' examination Roland was as 
sure of what we have just said as though he had been an 
eye-witness of tlie fight. 

Now, what had been done with the three bodies ? 
Roland disturbed himself very little about what had been 
done with two of them ; but he very much desired to 
know what had become of that of Sir John. One track 
of blood began at the pedestal and went to the door : Sir 
John's body had been carried outside. Roland shook the 
massive door ; it was only fastened by a bolt. At his first 
effort it opened ; upon the other side of the threshold 
he found again the traces of blood. Then through the 
brushwood he traced the path which the men who were 
carrying the body had taken. The broken branches and 
trodden grass led Roland to the border of the forest, and 
to the road from Pont d'Ain to Bourg. There, living or 
dead, the body seemed to have been deposited upon the 
slope of the ditch ; after which, nothing. 

A man passed, coming from the direction of the Chateau 
of Noires-Fontaines. Roland went to him. " Have you 
seen anything upon the road ] Have you met anything 1 " 
he asked. 

" Yes, indeed," replied the man. I saw two peasants 
carrying a body upon a litter." 

" Ah ! " cried Roland ; " and the body was that of a 
living man 1 " 

" The man was pale and motionless, and seemed to bo 
dead." 



186 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Did the blood run 1 " 

" I saw some drops upon the road." 
In that case he is alive." Then drawing a louis from 
his pocket, he said : " Here is a louis ; run to Dr. Milliet, 
at Bourg. Tell him to mount a horse, and ride like the 
devil to the Chateau of Noires-Fontaines. Say to him 
that there is a dying man there." 

And while the peasant, stimulated by the reward he 
had received, hastened towards Bourg, Roland went in the 
direction of the chateau. 

And now as our reader is in all probability as curious 
as Roland to know what happened to Sir John, we will 
inform him of the events of the night. 

Sir John, as we have seen, at a few minutes before 
eleven o'clock entered what was usually called the pav- 
ilion of the monastery, but which was nothing more nor 
less than a chapel erected in the midst of the woods. 
From the sacristy he passed into the choir. The choir 
was empty, and appeared to be deserted; a moon, bril- 
liant enough except when it was veiled by clouds, filtered 
its bluish rays through the broken stained glass of the 
lancet windows. 

Sir John reached the middle of the choir, stopped before 
the pedestal, and remained there. The minutes slipped 
away; but this time they were marked, not by the mon- 
astery clock, but by the one in the church at Peronnaz, 
the nearest village to the chapel. Until midnight every- 
thing happened just as it had happened to Roland ; that 
is to say, Sir John Avas disturbed only by vague murmurs 
and momentary noises. 

Midnight sounded. It was the hour Sir John had im- 
patiently awaited, for it was that upon which something 
would happen, if anything at all was to occur. At the 



THE JUDGMENT. 



187 



last stroke he thought he heard steps underground, and 
then he saw a Hght upon the side where the grating com- 
municated with the tombs. His whole attention was riv- 
eted upon this ]5oint. 

A monk came out of the passage, his hood pulled down 
over his eyes, and a torch in his hand ; he wore the dress 
of the Chartreux. A second followed, and then another, 
until Sir John had counted twelve of them. They separated 
before the altar. There were twelve stalls in the choir, six 
at Sir John's right, and six at his left. The twelve monks 
silently placed themselves in the twelve stalls ; each placed 
his torch in a hole made for that purpose, and waited. A 
thirteenth monk then appeared, and placed himself before 
the altar. ISTone of them affected the fantastic behavior of 
phantoms or ghosts ; all evidently belonged still to this 
earth ; all were living men. 

Sir John, standing with a pistol in each hand, leaning 
on his pedestal in the midst of the choir, watched with 
the greatest phlegm this manoeuvre which seemed to sur- 
round him. Like him, the monks remained standing and 
mute. The monk at the altar broke the silence. 

" Brothers," he demanded, " why are the avengers 
assembled ] " 

" To judge a profane one," replied the monks. 

" And this profane one," continued the interrogator, — 
'^what crime has he committed 

He has attempted to penetrate the secrets of the com- 
panions of Jehu." 

" "What penalty has he merited ] " 

"The penalty of death." 

The monk at the altar left time for the pause which 
followed to penetrate to the very heart of him whom he 
accused. Then turning to the Englishman, who was still 
as calm as though he were assisting at a comedy, he 
said : — 



188 



THE CO^IPAXIONS OF JEHU. 



" Sir Jolin Tanlay, you are a strar.ger and an Englisli- 
man ; this was a double reason for leaving the companions 
of Jehu to fight out their affairs ^vith the government 
vhose fall they have svorn to accomplisii. You did not 
have this wisdom ; you yielded to a vain curiosity ; in- 
stead of going away, you have penetrated to the lions' 
den, and the lions will tear you to pieces." Then afier a 
moment of silence, during wdiich he seemed to await the 
Englishman's reply, he added, seeing that the latter re- 
mained mute : " Sir John Tanlay, your sentence is death ; 
prepare to die." 

Ah, I see that I have fallen into the hands of bandits ; 
in that case there is a chance of escape by ransom." Then, 
turning towards the monk at the altar, Sir John asked : 
" At what figure is it fixed, Captain ] " 

jMurmured threats greeted these insolent words. The 
monk at the altar extended his hand. 

"You are mistaken. Sir John; we are not a band of 
robbers," he said, in a tone which vied in calmness and 
sangfroid with that of the Englishman. "In proof of 
it, if you have about you a large sum of money or any 
precious jewels, you have only to give instructions, and 
money and jewels will be sent either to your family or to 
any one whom you may designate." 

'•And what guaranty shall I have that my last wishes 
will be fulfilled ] " 

" My word." 

" The word of the chief of a band of assassins ! I 
think not ! " 

'^This time, as before, you are mistaken, Sir John. I 
am no more the chief of a company of assassins than I am 
the captain of bandits." 

" AYhat are you, then ? " 
I am the chosen one of celestial vengeance. I am one 



THE JUDGMENT. 



189 



sent by Jehu, King of Israel, who was consecrated by the 
prophet Elisha to the work of exterminating the House of 
Ahab." 

" If you are what you say, why do you veil your faces ; 
why do you wear armor beneath your robes'? Chosen 
ones strike with uncovered faces, and risk death in giving 
the blow ! Pull up your hoods, show me your naked 
chests, and I will recognize you for what you pretend 
to be." 

"Brothers, you have heard?" said the monk at the 
altar. And tearing aside his robe, he opened with a single 
movement his coat, his waistcoat, and even his shirt. 

Each monk did the same, and stood with uncovered 
face and bared chest. They were all young men, of whom 
the eldest was not yet thirty-five. Their manners indi- 
cated a high degree of cultivation ; and, strange to say, 
not one of them was armed. They were indeed judges, 
and nothing else. 

" Be content, Sir John Tanlay," said the monk at the 
altar ; " you are about to die, but in dying you will be 
able, according to your expressed desire, to recognize and 
to kill. Sir John, you have five minutes in which to 
recommend your soul to God." 

Sir John, instead of profiting by this permission and 
thinking of his spiritual safety, tranquilly raised the ham- 
mers of his pistols to see if the priming was in good con- 
dition, worked the cocks up and down to ascertain if the 
springs were perfect, and passed the ramrod into the bar- 
rels to satisfy himself that the balls were in position. 
Then, without waiting the five minutes which had been 
granted him, he said, — 

" Gentlemen, I am ready ; are you 1 " 

The young men looked at one another ; then, at a sign 
from their chief, they approached Sir John, surrounding 



190 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



him on all sides. The monk at the altar remained motion- 
less in his place, watchful of what was going on. 

Sir John had only two pistols, and consequently could 
kill only two men. He chose his victims, and fired. 
Two companions of Jehu rolled upon the pavement, red- 
dening it w^ith their blood. The others, as if nothing had 
happened, advanced at the same pace, extending their 
hands towards Sir John. He had grasped the barrels of 
his two pistols, and used them like two hammers. He 
was vigorous, and the fight was a long one. For about 
ten minutes a confused group swayed to and fro in the 
middle of the choir ; finally this ceased, and the compan- 
ions of Jehu separated right and left, and regained their 
stalls, leaving Sir John bound with the cords of their 
girdles and lying upon the pedestal in the midst of the 
choir. 

^'Have you commended your soul to God?" asked the 
monk at the altar. 

"Yes, assassin," replied Sir John, "you may strike." 

The monk took a poniard from the altar, and raising his 
arm high above Sir John, and holding the poniard sus- 
pended over his breast, he said : "Sir John Tanlay, you 
are brave and honorable. Take an oath that not a word 
of what you have just seen will ever pass your lips, swear 
that under no circumstances wall you ever recognize any of 
us, and we will give you your life." 

" If I ever go out from here," replied Sir John, "it wdll 
be to denounce you ; as soon as I have my liberty, I shall 
use it to pursue you." 

" Swear ! " repeated the monk. 

"I^o!" said Sir John. 

" Swear ! " said the monk, for the third time. 
" ISTever ! " replied Sir J ohn. 

" Well, die then, since you will have it so ! " said the 



The Judgment. 



THE JUDGMENT. 



191 



monk, and he buried the poniard up to the hilt in the 
breast of his victim, who, either by force of will or be- 
cause he was instantly killed, uttered not even a sigh. 

Then in a full, sonorous voice, — the voice of a man who 
feels that he has accomplished his duty, — the monk said, 
"Justice is done ! " After which, leaving the poniard in 
the wound, and going back to the altar, he added : "Broth- 
ers, as you are aware, you are invited to Paris, to the Rue 
du Bac, No. 35, to the ball of the victims, which will take 
place upon the 21st of next January, in memory of the 
death of King Louis XVI." Then he led the way into 
the subterranean passage, followed by the ten remaining 
monks, each carrying his torch. Two torches remained, 
to light the three corpses. 

A moment afterwards two lay-brothers entered ; they 
began by taking the two bodies lying upon the flagging 
and carrying them into the vault. Then they returned, 
raised the body of Sir John, placed it upon a litter, and 
carried it out of the chapel, passing through the great en- 
trance-door, which they closed behind them. The two 
monks who walked before the litter carried the two re- 
maining torches. 

And now, if our readers ask the reason for the differ- 
ence in the treatment of Roland and Sir John, for the 
clemency towards one and the severity towards the other, 
we reply that Morgan had given a safeguard to Amelie's 
brother ; and protected thus, it was impossible that Ro- 
land should have died by the hand of a companiou of 
Jehu. 



192 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE EUE DE LA VICTOIEE. 

While the body of Sir John Tanlay is being carried to 
the Chateau of Noires-Fontaines ; while Eoland is hasten- 
ing in the direction which has been pointed out to him ; 
while the peasant sent by him is hurrying to Bourg to 
inform Dr. Milliet of the catastrophe which makes his 
presence necessary at Mme. de Montrevel's, — let us leap 
over the space which, separates Bourg from Paris, and the 
time which elapses between the 16th of October and the 
, 7th of l!^"ovember (or, in other words, between the 24th 
Yendemiaire and the 16th Brumaire), and enter, about 
four o'clock in the afternoon, that little house in the Eue 
de la Victoire, made historical by the famous conspiracy 
of the 18th Brumaire, which was completed there. It is 
the same which still preserves the consular sheaves on 
each leaf of its double oaken door, after so many succes- 
sive changes of government, and which on the right hand 
side of the street, No. 60, still offers itself to the curious 
gaze of the passer-by. 

Let us follow the long, narrow alley of lindens which 
leads from the gate to the house door ; let us enter the 
ante-chamber, take the passage to the right, and ascend 
the twenty steps which lead to a room hung with green 
paper and furnished with curtains, chairs, sofas, and hang- 
ings of the same color. Its walls are covered with maps 
and plans of cities; a double bookcase of maple-wood 
extends each side of the chimney-piece, which it encloses ; 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



193 



the chairs, sofas, tables, and desks are overflowing with 
books ; there is scarcely room on the chairs to sit down, or 
on the tables and desks to write. 

In the midst of a litter of accounts, letters, pamphlets, 
and books in which he has made himself a place, a man is 
sitting, endeavoring, while he impatiently tugs at his hair 
from time to time, to decipher a page of writing beside 
which the hieroglyphics of the obelisk of Louqsor would 
be transparently intelligible. Just as the secretary's impa- 
tience was merging into despair the door opened, and a 
young officer in the costume of an aide-de-camp entered. 
The secretary raised his head, and a flash of joy lighted 
up his face. 

" Oh, my dear Roland," he said, ''here you are at last ! 
I am delighted to see you, for three reasons, — first, be- 
cause I have been longing for you ; second, because the 
general has been impatiently expecting you, and has re- 
peatedly asked for you ; and third, because you are going 
to help me read this word, over which I have been groan- 
ing for ten minutes. But, first and foremost, come and 
shake hands." 

The two men greeted each other warmly. 

" And now," said the aide-de-camp, " what is this trouble- 
some word, Bourrienne ? " 

" Such frightful writing ! every page that I read gives 
me another gray hair, and I am on my third page to-day. 
Here, read it if you can." 

Eoland took the page from the secretary's hand, fixed 
his eyes upon the place indicated, and read, fluently 
enough, — 

" ' Paragraph XI. The Nile, from Assouan to a point three 
leagues north of Cairo, flows in a single stream.' 

" Well," he said, pausing, " that goes of itself. What 

VOL. I. — 13 



194 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



were you talking about 1 On the contrary, the general has 
taken more pains than usual." 

" Go on, go on ! " said Bourrienne. 

The young man continued : — 

From this point, which is called [the devil !] — which is 
called—'" 

" Yes, which is called — what 1 " 

" What will you give me, Bourrienne," exclaimed Ro- 
land, " if I get it ? " 

" I will give you the first colonel's commission that I 
find signed in blank." 

" No, indeed ! I don't want to leave the general. I 
would rather have one good father than five hundred 
bad children. I will give you your three words for 
nothing." 

" What ! are there three words there 1 " 
" Which do not look like more than one, T confess. 
Listen and bow down. 

" ' From this point, which is called Ventre della Vacca — 

" Oh ! Ventre de la Vache ! Upon my word ! the 
writing is illegible, even in French ; and when he takes it 
into his head to write in Italian, to say nothing of the 
patois of Ajaccio ! I thought I only ran the risk of be- 
coming crazy, but I shall get stupid also. Yes, you've 
hit it." 

And he repeated the entire phrase : — 

" ' The Nile, from Assouan to a point three leagues north of 
Cairo, flows in a single stream. From this point, which is 
called Ventre de la Vache, it forms the branches of Eosetta 
and Damietta.' 

" Thanks, Roland." And he began writing the last part 
of the paragraph, the first of which was already transcribed. 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



195 



" Is our general still riding his hobby 1 " asked Roland. 
" Is he going to colonize Egypt 1 " 

" Oh, yes ; and by way of diversion he will take a hand 
at governing France. We will colonize — at a distance." 

" And now, Boiirrienne, tell me something of what is 
going on, so that I shall not appear to have come from 
the ends of the earth." 

" in the first place, did you return of your own accord, 
or were you recalled 1 " 

"Eecalled, emphatically." 

"By whom?" 

"By the general himself." 

" Special dispatch ? " 

" From his own hand ; see ! " 

The young man drew from his pocket a couple of lines, 
unsigned, in the same handwriting as that on the pages 
before Bourrienne. The two lines read : — 

" Leave, and be at Paris on the 18th Bruraaire. I need 
you." 

"Yes," said Bourrienne, "I suppose it is for the 18th." 

"What is to happen on the 18th 1" 

"Oh, now you ask me something I cannot answer, 
Roland. The general, as you are aware, is not communi- 
cative. I do not know yet what will happen on the 18th 
Brumaire, but I rather think there will be something." 

" Oh, then you are not sure 1 " 

" I think that he wants to be director instead of Sieyes ; 
or perhaps even president in Gohier's place." 

" Good ! but how about the constitution of the year 

iin" 

" What do you mean 1 " 

" That a man must be forty years old to be director, and 
that the general lacks exactly ten years of that." 



196 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" So much the worse for the Constitution ; it will he 
disregarded." 

Eoland shook his head. 

"Well, what is it ? " asked Bourrienne. 

" I do not helieve that our general will have himself 
made simply a director, with four colleagues. Think of 
it ! five kings of France ! " 

" At all events, he has thus far given tokens of nothing 
else ; but you know that with our general, when we want 
to know, we have to guess." 

" Oh, I am too lazy to take the trouble, Bourrienne. I 
am a true janissary ; what he does will be well done. 
Why the devil should I take the trouble to have an opin- 
ion, and defend it 1 Existence is wearisome enough in 
itself." And the young man ended the aphorism with a 
long yawn ; then he added carelessly, " Do you think 
there will be any fighting, Bourrienne 1 " 

"Probably." 

"Well, then, there will be a chance to get killed; 
that 's all I want. Where is the general ? " 

" He is with Mme. Bonaparte; he went down there a 
quarter of an hour ago. Have you sent word to him that 
you have come 1 '' 

" No ; I was not sorry to see you first. But I hear his 
voice now. Here he is ! " 

Just then the door opened suddenly, and the same his- 
torical person whom we have seen playing a silent role at 
Avignon appeared upon the threshold, in the picturesque 
costume of general-in-chief of the Egyptian army. His 
head, however, was bare, for he was in his own house. 
Eoland thought his eyes looked more sunken and his 
complexion more sallow than ever. However, when he 
caught sight of Eoland, his thoughtful eyes shone with 

joy- 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



197 



"Ah, it is you, Roland ! " he said. You are faithful 
as steel. I call, and you come. You are welcome." And 
he extended his hand to the young man. Then with an 
imperceptible smile, he added ; " What are you doing with 
Bourrienne ? " 

" I was waiting for you, General." 

" And while you were waiting, you were gossiping like 
a couple of old women." 

" I confess it ; I was showing him my order to be here 
on the 16th Brumaire." 

" Did I write the 16th or the 17th ]" 

"Oh, the 16th, General. The 17th would have been 
too late." 

" Why would the 17th have been too late ? " 

" Well, in case there are, as Bourrienne says, great plans 
afoot for the 18th — " 

*^ There you go ! " murmured Bourrienne ; give me 
away, won't you 1 " 

" Ah, did he tell you that I had great plans for the 
18th?" He crossed over to Bourrienne, and taking him by 
the ear, said : " Gossip ! " Then to Roland : " Well, yes, 
my friend, there are great plans for the 18th ; my wife and 
I are going to dine with President Gohier, who has been 
very kind to Josephine in my absence. You will dine 
there with us, Eoland." 

Roland looked at Bonaparte. "Was that the reason 
you recalled me. General? " he asked laughing. 

" Yes, for that, and perhaps for something else also. 
Write, Bourrienne." 

Bourrienne took up his pen. 

" Are you ready ? " 

" Yes, General." 

My dear President, — This is to inform you that my 
wife, myself, and one of my aides-de-camp will dine with you 



198 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



on tlie aftemoon of the ISth. We prefer to make it an infor- 
mal affair. 

" And then ? " said Bourrienne. 
" What do you mean ? " 

" Shall I put, ^Liberty, Equality, Fraternity' ? " 
" Or death ! " added Roland. 

"Xo," said Bonaparte. Give me the pen." He took 
the pen from Bourrienne, and wrote, — 
Yours, 

Bonaparte. 

Then, pushing back the paper, he said : " Here, ad- 
dress it, Bourrienne, and send it by special messenger." 

Bourrienne addressed and sealed it, and then rang. An 
officer entered. 

" Have this taken by special messenger," said Bour- 
rienne. 

" There will be an answer," added Bonaparte. 
The officer shut the door. 

"Bourrienne," said the general, motioning to Eoland, 
"look at your friend." 

" Well, General, I see him." 

" Do you know what he did at Avignon'? " 

"I hope he did n't make a Pope." 

" No j he threw a plate at a man's head." 

" That was rather a hasty thing to do.'* 

"'That was not all." 

" I suppose not." 

" He fought a duel with this man." 

" And killed him, I suppose," said Bourrienne. 

" Exactly j and do you know the reason for all this 1 " 

"No." 

The general shrugged his shoulders. " Because the 
man called me a thief." Then, looking at Eoland with an 
indescribable expression of affectionate raillery, he said : 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



199 



" Idiot ! " Then suddenly he added : By the way, 
what of the Enghshman ? " 

" Exactly ; I was just going to speak to you of him." 

" Is he still in France 1 " 

" Yes, and I thought at one time that he would stay 
here until the trumpet sounded the reveille in the valley 
of Jehoshaphat, on the judgment day." 

" Did you come near killing him, too 1 " 
Oh, no ! we are the best friends possible : and, Gen- 
eral, he is such an excellent man, and so original at the 
same time, that I am going to ask for a little bit of your 
friendship for him." 

" The devil ! for an Englishman 1 " Bonaparte shook 
his head. " I don't like the English." 

Yes, as a nation ; but as individuals — " 

" Well, what happened to your friend ] " 

" He was judged, condemned, and executed.'* 

" What the devil are you telling me 1 " 

" God's truth. General." 

" What ! that he was judged, condemned, and guillo- 
tined 1 " 

" Oh, not exactly. Judged and condemned, yes ; but 
not guillotined. If that had happened to him, he would 
be worse off than he is now." 

" Well, then, what do you mean 1 By what tribunal 
was he judged and condemned 1 " 

"By the tribunal of the companions of Jehu." 

"What's thatr' 

"Come ! have you already forgotten Morgan, the masked 
man who brought back the wine merchant's two hundred 
louisr' 

" ]^o," said Bonaparte, " I have not forgotten it. Bour- 
rienne, I told you about the rascal's audacity, did n't I ? " 
"Yes, General," replied Bourrienne, "and I told you 



200 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



that if I had been in your place, I should have wanted to 
find out who he was." 

" Oh, the general would have known that before now if 
he had let me have my way. I was just going to spring 
at his throat and tear away his mask, when the general 
held me back." 

"Well, how about your Englishman']" asked the gen- 
eral. " Did this Morgan assassinate him]^' 
No, he did not ; but his companions did." 

" But you spoke just now of a tribunal and a judgment." 

" General, that is just like you," said Eoland, with a 
return to the familiarity of the military school ; "you 
want to know, but you will not give me a chance to 
speak." 

" Join the Five Hundred, and you can talk as much as 
you like." 

" Yes ! in the Five Hundred I should have four hundred 
and ninety-nine colleagues who would be just as anxious 
to speak as I, and who would interrupt me. I would 
rather be interrupted by you than by a lawyer.'* 
Will you speak 1 " 

" I ask nothing better. There is, near Bourg, a 
monastery — " 

The monastery of Seillon ; I know it.^' 

" What ! you know the monastery of Seillon ? ** asked 
Roland. 

" Does not the general know everything 1 " interposed 
Bourrienne. 

" Let us see ; are there any monks in your monastery? " 
" No ; there is nothing there but ghosts." 
" Perhaps you are going to tell me a ghost story." 
^'One of the finest." 

"The devil! Bourrienne knows how I adore them. 
Go onl" 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



201 



" Well, some one came to my mother's house, who told 
us that there were ghosts at the monastery. You can 
imagine that Sir John and I, or rather I and Sir John, seized 
upon the chance. We each of us passed a night there." 

" Where r' 

"At the monastery.'' 

Bonaparte made with his thumb an almost impercep- 
tible sign of the cross, — a Corsican habit which he had 
never outgrown. "Ah/* he said, "and did you see the 
ghosts 1 " 

" I saw one." 

"And what did you do to it?" 
" I fired at it." 
"And then r' 

"Then it continued on its way." 
" And you gave it up 1 " 

" Ah, how well you know me ! I followed it, and fired 
on it again ; but as it knew its way among the ruins beti;er 
than I did, it escaped me." 

"The devil!" 

" The next day it was Sir John's turn." 
" And did he see your ghost 1 " 

" He saw more than that ; he saw twelve monks, who 
came into the church, tried him for having attempted to 
penetrate their secrets, condemned him to death, and, 
upon my honor, poniarded him." 

"And he did not defend himself?" 

" Like a lion. He killed two of them." 

"And he diedT' 

" He came very near it ; but I hope now that he will 
escape. He was found by the side of the road, and 
brought to my mother's house with a poniard stuck in his 
breast, like a pole in a vineyard." 

" It is like a scene from St. Vehme." 



202 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



^' And on the blade of the poniard, as if to leave no 
doubt as to who gave the blow, was deeply engraved, ' Com- 
panions of Jehu.' " 

" Oh, it is not possible that such things can take place 
in France, in the last year of the eighteenth century ! It 
might have happened in Germany, in the Middle Ages, in 
the times of the Henrys." 

''Not possible, General? Well, here is the poniard ; 
what do you think of the form of it 1 Prepossessing, is 
it not 1 " And the young man drew from his coat a 
poniard made entirely of steel, both blade and hilt. 

The handle was in the form of a cross, and upon the 
blade was engraved, as he had said, ^'Companions of 
Jehu." 

Bonaparte examined the weapon carefully. And you 
say that they planted this plaything in your Englishman's 
chest 1 " 

" Up to the hilt." 

"And he is not dead?" 

" Not yet, at all events." 

" Do you hear that, Bourrienne ? " 

" With the greatest interest." 

" You must remind me of this, Bourrienne." 

"When, General?" 

"When — when I am master. Come and speak to 
Josephine ; come, Bourrienne, you will dine with us ; be 
careful what you say to each other, for Moreau will be 
there. I will keep the poniard as a curiosity." 

Bonaparte went out first, followed by Eoland and 
Bourrienne. On the stairs he met the messenger who had 
been sent to Gohier. " Well," he asked. 

" Here is the president's reply." 

" Give it to me." 

He broke the seal and read : — 



THE LITTLE HOUSE. 



203 



16tli Brumaire, year VII. 

President Gohier is delighted at the happiness which Gen- 
eral Bonaparte promises him. He will expect him on the 
afternoon of the 18th Brumaire, at dinner, with his charming 
wife and the aide-de-camp referred to. 

Dinner will be served at five o'clock. 

If this hour is not convenient for the general, he is en- 
treated to name any other that he may prefer. 

President Gohier. 

Bonaparte put the letter into his pocket, with an ambig- 
uous smile. Then, turning towards Roland, he asked ; 
"Do you know President Gohier 1 " 

''1^0, General." 

" Well, you will see him ; he is a very worthy man." 
And the words were pronounced with an accent not less 
ambiguous than the smile. 



204 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XX. 

GENERAL BONAPARTE'S GUESTS. 

Josephine, in spite of her thirty-four years, or peiliaps 
because of them, — that delightful age in woman from 
which she can view at once her past youth and her future 
old age, — Josephine, still beautiful, and more graceful 
than ever, was the charming woman whom we all know. 
An imprudent remark on the part of Junot, when her 
husband had first returned, had created a little coldness 
between them ; but three days had sufficed to restore to 
the enchantress all her power over the conqueror of Eivoli 
and the Pyramids. 

Josephine was doing the honors of the salon when 
Poland entered. True Creole that she was, she was always 
incapable of concealing her feelings : she uttered a cry of 
joy, and held out her hand to him as soon as she saw 
him. She knew that Poland was devoted to her husband ; 
she knew his reckless bravery, and that if he had had 
twenty lives, he would have given them all for General 
Bonaparte. Poland eagerly took the hand which she held 
out to him, and kissed it respectfully. Josephine had 
known Poland's mother at Martinique, and when she saw 
Poland she never failed to inquire for his maternal grand- 
father, M. de la Clemenciere, in whose magnificent garden 
as a child she had picked those luscious fruits unknown 
to our colder regions. She began at once, and inquired 
affectionately for the health of Mme. de Montrevel, her 
daughter, and little Edward. After which she said : — 



GENERAL BONAPARTE'S GUESTS. 205 



" My dear Roland, I must devote myself to my guests ; 
but I wish you would try to remain to-night after the 
others have gone, or else come and see me alone to-mor- 
row ; I want to speak to you of him," — she glanced at 
Bonaparte, — " and I have a million things to tell you." 
Then, pressing the young man's hand, she said with a 
sigh : " Whatever happens, you will not desert him, will 
your' 

•'Whatever happens? What do you meanr' asked 
Eoland, in astonishment. 

" I know what I mean," replied Josephine, " and I am 
sure that after you have talked ten minutes with Bona- 
parte, you will understand also. In the mean time, watch, 
listen, and be silent." 

Eoland bowed, and retired to one side, resolved, accord- 
ing to the advice given him by Josephine, to conhne him- 
self to the role of an observer. 

There was plenty to observe. Three groups occupied 
the salon. One was gathered around Mme. Bonaparte, 
the only lady in the room, and was variable rather than 
fixed. Talma was the centre of a second one, which was 
composed of Arnault, Parseval-Grandmaison, Monge, Ber- 
thollet, and two or three members of the Institute. A third 
was joined by Bonaparte, and among its members could 
be remarked Talleyrand, Barras, Lucien, Admiral Bruix,^ 
Roederer, Regnaud de Saint-Jean-d'Angely, Fouche, Re'al, 
and two or three generals, among whom was Lefebvre. 

In the first group they were talking of fashion, music, 
and the drama ; in the second, of literature, science, and 
dramatic art ; in the third, of everything except that of 
which they wished to speak. This reserve probably did 

1 Not to be mistaken for Rear-Admiral de Brueys, who was killed 
at Aboukir, August 1, 1798. Admiral Bruix, negotiator of t]ie 
18th Brumaire with Talleyrand, did not die until 1805. 



206 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



not correspond with the thought in Bonaparte's mind ; 
for after a few moments of insignificant conversation, he 
took the old bishop of Autun by the arm, and led him 
into the embrasure of a window. 
''Welir' he asked. 

Talleyrand looked at Bonaparte in hi& inimitable way. 
"Well, what did I tell you of Siey^s, General V he 
said. 

"You told me, *Look for support among the people 
who treat as Jacobins the friends of the Eepublic, and you 
will be convinced that Sieyes is at the head of those 
people.' 

" I was not wrong." 

" Then he gives himself up ? " 

"Better still, he has returned — 

"The man who wanted to have me shot for having 
landed at Frejus without stopping for quarantine ! " 
" Oh, no ! it was not for that." 
" For what then 1 " 

" For having neither looked at nor spoken to him at a 
dinner at Gohier's." 

" I will confess to you that I did it purposely. I can- 
not bear this monk who has renounced his order." 

Bonaparte perceived, when it was too late, that his re- 
mark was like the archangel's sword, two-edged ; for if 
Sieyes had renounced his monk's habit, Talleyrand had 
likewise renounced his mitre. He threw a rapid glance 
at his companion's face. The ex-bishop of Autun smiled 
his sweetest smile. 

" Then I can depend upon him ] " said the general. 

"I will answer for him." 

" And Cambaceres and Lebrun, have you seen them 1 " 
" I had only Sieyes to attend to, as being the most 
refractory j Bruix saw the other two." 



GENERAL BONAPARTE'S GUESTS. 207 

The admiral, from the midst of the group where he was 
standing, did not take his eyes off the general and the 
statesman ; he suspected that their conversation was an 
important one. Bonaparte made a sign to him to join them. 

A less clever man would have obeyed instantly. Bruix 
took care not to do this. He walked carelessly about the 
room two or three times, and then, as if he had suddenly 
perceived Talleyrand and Bonaparte, he joined them. 

" Bruix is a remarkable man," said Bonaparte, who 
judged men from little things as well as from great ones. 

" And a prudent one also, General," added Talleyrand. 

" We shall need a corkscrew to draw the words from 
his mouth." 

" Oh, no ! now that he has joined us, he will go straight 
to the point." 

In fact, Bruix had scarcely reached them before he 
said clearly and concisely : " I have seen them, and they 
hesitate." 

They hesitate ! Cambaceres and Lebrun hesitate ! I 
can understand Lebrun, — a man of letters, a moderate, 
a puritan ; but Cambaceres — " 
" It is so." 

" Did you not tell them that I intended to make a con- 
sul of each of them 1 " 

" I did not get as far as that," replied Bruix, laughing. 

" And why not 1 " demanded Bonaparte. 

" Because this is the first time you have said anything 
of the kind to me. General." 

" That 's a fact," said Bonaparte, biting his lips. 

" Shall I repair the omission*?" asked Bruix. 

" No," said Bonaparte, quickly ; " they will think that 
I need them. I don't want any evasions. Let them de- 
cide to-day, without any inducements other than those 
you have given them ; to-morrow it will be too late. I 



208 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



am strong enough without them ; and I have Sieyes and 
Barras. " 

" Barras ! " repeated the others, in astonishment, 
" Yes, Barras, who treats me as the Little Corporal, and 
does not send for me to come back from Italy because, as 
he says, I have made ray fortune there, and it is useless 
for me to return. Well, Barras — " 
" Barras r' 

" Oh, nothing — " Then correcting himself, he added : 
" Well, I may as well tell you. Do you know what Barras 
confessed yesterday at dinner before me? — that it was 
impossible to get along with the constitution of the year 
III ; that he recognized the necessity for a dictator ; that 
he had decided to retire, to abandon the reins of govern- 
ment, — adding that his opinions were worn out, and that 
the Republic needed new men. Now, guess to whom he 
was inclined to transfer his power, — to General Hedou- 
ville, a worthy man ; but I can look him out of counte- 
nance in no time. It is true that my glance is like a 
thunderbolt. The result is that Barras was at my bed- 
side at eight o'clock this morning, excusing himself as best 
he could for his stupidity of yesterday ; recognizing that 
I alone could save the Republic ; declaring that he had 
come to put himself under my orders, to do what I wanted 
done, to take any part I should give him ; and begging me, 
if I was planning anything, to promise to depend on him. 
Yes, he said he would await me under the elm ! " 

" But, General," said Talleyrand, who could not resist 
the temptation to exercise his wit, " only until the time 
when the elm is no longer a tree of liberty." 

Bonaparte looked at the ex-bishop. " Yes, I know that 
Barras is your friend, and that of Fouche and Real ; but 
he is not mine, and I will prove him. You will go back 
to Cambacer^s and Lebrun, Bruix, and make them give a 



GENERAL BONAPARTE'S GUESTS. 



209 



decisive answer." Then looking at his watch, and frown- 
ing, he added : "It seems to me Moreau is making ns 
wait for hira." And he went towards the group of which 
Talma was the centre. 

The two statesmen watched him as he moved away. 
Then Admiral Bruix asked in a low tone, — 

" What do you think, my dear Maurice, of these senti- 
ments towards the man who distinguished him at the 
siege of Toulon when he was only a simple officer; who 
gave him the support of the Convention on the thirteenth 
Yendemiaire ; and who finally caused hira at the age of 
twenty-six to be named general-in-chief of the army in 
Italy r' 

" I think, my dear admiral," replied Talleyrand, with 
his pale and mocking smile, " that there are some 
services so great that they can only be repaid by 
ingratitude." 

Just then the door opened, and General Moreau was 
announced. At this announcement, which was an unex- 
pected one for most of those present, all looks were turned 
towards the door. Moreau entered. 

At that time, three men held the eyes of France, and 
Moreau was one of them. The two others were Bonaparte 
and Pichegru. Each one of them had become as it were 
a symbol. 

Pichegru, since the 18th Fructidor, was the symbol 
of monarchy ; Moreau, since they had surnamed him 
Fabius, was the symbol of the Republic ; Bonaparte, the 
symbol of war, surpassed them all, by reason of his ad- 
venturous genius. 

Moreau was then in the full strength of his age : we 
should have said of his genius, but for the fact that one 
of the attributes of genius is decision, and nothing was 
more undecided than the famous cunctateur. He was then 

VOL. I. — 14 



210 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



thirty-six years of age, with a tall figure and a face at 
once gentle, calm, and firm; he must have resembled 
Xenophon. 

Bonaparte had never seen Moreau ; neither had Mor- 
eau ever seen Bonaparte. While one was fighting on 
the Adige and the Mincio, the other was engaged on the 
Danube and the Rhine. 

Bonaparte went towards Moreau as soon as he saw 
him. " You are welcome, General," he said. 

Moreau smiled with extreme courtesy. " General," he 
replied, while they all gathered around to see how this 
Csesar met his Pompey, " you have returned from Egypt 
victorious, while I have just come from Italy after a great 
defeat." 

" Which was not your own, and for which you are not 
responsible. General. It was Joubert's fault. If he had 
returned to the army in Italy as soon as he was appointed 
commander-in-chief, it is more than probable that the 
Eussians and Austrians, with the comparatively few troops 
that they then had, could not have resisted him ; but the 
honeymoon kept him in Paris ! This fatal month, for 
which poor Joubert paid with his life, gave them time to 
unite their forces ; the surrender of Mantua gave them 
fifteen thousand men, who arrived on the eve of the bat- 
tle. It was impossible for our brave army not to be over- 
whelmed by such odds." 

" Alas ! yes," said Moreau ; " the smaller number is 
always beaten by the greater." 

" That is a great truth, General," exclaimed Bona- 
parte, — " an incontrovertible one." 

"And yet," said Arnault, joining the conversation, 
" you have beaten large armies with small ones." 

" If you were Marius, instead of the author of Marius, 
you would not say that. Monsieur the poet. Although I 



GENERAL BONAPARTE'S GUESTS. 211 



have conquered large armies with small ones, — listen care- 
fully, you young men who obey now, but who expect to 
command some time, — it is always the smaller number 
that is beaten by the greater." 

" I do not understand," said Arnault and Lefebvre at 
the same time. But Moreau made a sign of the head 
which indicated that he comprehended the general's 
meaning. 

Bonaparte continued : Follow my theory, and you 
have the art of war. When I was in the presence of a 
large array with a small force, I would group mine rapidly, 
and fall like a thunderbolt upon one of the wings, cutting 
it off. I would take advantage of the disorder into which 
this manoeuvre never failed to throw the enemy, to attack 
in another place, still with my whole force. I could con- 
quer thus in detail ; and the consequent victory was al- 
ways, as you see, the triumph of the greater number 
over the smaller." 

While the clever general was giving this definition of 
his genius, the door opened, and dinner was announced. 

" Come, General," said Bonaparte, leading Moreau to 
Josephine, ^' give your arm to my wife, and let us go to 
dinner." And at this invitation they all passed into the 
dining-room. 

After dinner, under pretext of showing Moreau a mag- 
nificent sabre which he had brought from Egypt, Bona- 
parte took him into his study. The two rivals remained 
for more than an hour closeted there. What passed be- 
tween them ; what agreement was signed ; what promises 
were made 1 No one ever knew. 

When Bonaparte returned alone to the salon, Lucien 
asked, — 

"Well, what of Moreau?" 

Bonaparte replied : As I thought, he prefers military 



212 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



to political power ; I have promised him the command of 
an army." 

As he pronounced these last words, Bonaparte smiled. 
" And in the mean time — " he continued. 

"In the mean time V echoed Lucien. 

"He will have that of Luxembourg. I am not sorry to 
make him the jailer of the Directors before making him 
the conqueror of the Austrians." 

The next day the " Moniteur " had this paragraph : 

'■^ Paris, Vlth Brumaire. — Bonaparte has presented to 
Moreau a Damascus sword ornamented with precious stones, 
which he brought from Egypt, the value of which is estimated 
at twelve thousand francs." 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIEECTORY. 213 



CHAPTEE XXI. . 

THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 

As we have said, Morean, armed no doubt with instruc- 
tions, left the little house in the Rue de la Victoire, while 
Bonaparte returned alone to the salon. Upon such an 
evening nothing escaped observation ; and therefore 
Moreau's absence and Bonaparte's solitary return were 
noticed, as well as the visible good-humor which shone upon 
the face of the latter. He was observed more eagerly by 
Josephine and Roland than by any one else ; Moreau upon 
Bonaparte's side added twenty per cent to the chances of 
success, while Moreau against him took away at least fifty 
per cent. 

Josephine's eyes were so full of entreaty that when 
Bonaparte left Lucien he pushed him gently towards his 
wife. Lucien understood, and approached Josephine. 

" All is well," he said. 

"Moreau?" 

" He is with us." 

" I thought he was a republican." 
It has been proved to him that we are acting for the 
good of the Republic." 

" I should have thought him ambitious," said Roland. 

Lucien started, and looked at the young man. " You 
are right," he said. 

" Well, then," said Josephine, " if he is ambitious, he 
will not let Bonaparte have power." 



214 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

"Why not?" 

" Because he will want it for himself." 

" Yes ; but he expects it to be brought to him ready 
made, while he could not create it, and would not dare to 
take it." 

In the mean time Bonaparte had joined the group which 
had again formed around Talma. " What are you talking 
about, Talma 1 " he asked ; "they seem to be listening to 
you very attentively." 

" Yes, but my reign is ended," returned the artist. 

"Why so?" 

" Like citizen Barras, I abdicate." 
" Has citizen Barras abdicated ? " 
" So they say." 

" And do they know who will be named in his place i " 
" They suspect." 

" Is it one of your friends, Talma 1 " 

"He has done me the honor," said Talma, bowing, "to 
call me one of his friends." 

" In that case, Talma, I ask your protection." 

" It is granted," said Talma, laughing. " Now, what 
do you want to be protected against 1 " 

" Against being sent to Italy, from which place citizen 
Barras did not want me to return." 
• "Well," said Talma, "you know the song. General, — 

" ' We will go no more to the woods,^ 
The laurels are cut ! ' " 

" Oh, Eoscius, Roscius ! " said Bonaparte, smiling, 
"have you turned flatterer in my absence? " 

" Roscius was Caesar's friend. General, and on his re- 
turn from Gaul he must have said some such thing to 
him." 

Bonaparte laid his hand on Talma's shoulder. " Would 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 215 



he have said the same to him after the passage of the 
Rubicon 1 " 

Talma looked Bonaparte in the face. " No," he re- 
plied. "He would have said, with the oracle, ^Csesar, 
beware of the Ides of March ! ' " 

Bonaparte fumbled in his pocket as if seeking some- 
thing, and his fingers closed convulsively around the pon- 
iard of the companions of Jehu. Had he a presentiment 
of the conspiracies of Arena, Saint-Ee'gent, and Cadoudal'? 
Just then the door opened, and General Bernadotte was 
announced. 

" Bernadotte ! " murmured Bonaparte, involuntarily, 
what can he want 1 " 

In fact, since Bonaparte's return, Bernadotte had kept 
persistently aloof, refusing all overtures made to him by 
Bonaparte or his friends. The reason for this was that 
for a long time Bernadotte had recognized the man of poli- 
tics beneath the soldier's coat, the dictator beneath the 
commander-in-chief; and Bernadotte, king that he was 
afterwards, was at this time a very different kind of a 
republican from Moreau. But Bernadotte believed that 
he had a grudge against Bonaparte. His military career 
had been not less brilliant than that of the young general; 
his fortune would equal his, end to the end ; but, more 
fortunate than he, he was to die upon a throne. It is 
true that Bernadotte would not have conquered this 
throne ; he would have been called to it. 

The son of a lawyer of Pau, Bernadotte, born in 1764, 
five years before Bonaparte, had become a common soldier 
at the age of seventeen. In 1789 he was still only ser- 
geant-major ; but it was an epoch of rapid promotions. In 
1794 he was proclaimed brigadier-general by Kleber, on 
the battle-field where he had just won a victory ; as a 
general of division, he had taken a brilliant part in the 



216 



THE C03IPAXI0NS OF JEHU, 



days of Fleiirus and Juliers, caused Maestricht to capitu- 
late, taken Altdorf, and protected Jourdan's retreat against 
an army twice as numerous as his own. In 1797 the Di- 
rectory sent him with seventeen thousand men to Bona- 
parte, — these seventeen thousand men heing old soldiers 
of his own, of Kleber, Marceau, Hoche, and Samhre-et- 
Meuse; and then he had forgotten his rivalry, and 
seconded Bonaparte with all his might, — taking his share 
in the passage of the Tagliamento ; conquering Gradiska, 
Trieste, Lay bach, and Idria ; coming after the campaign 
to bring back to the Directory the flags taken from the 
enemy, and accepting, perhaps unwillingly, the embassy 
to Vienna, while Bonaparte secured chief command of the 
army in Egypt. At A'ienna, a disturbance created by the 
raising of the tri-colored flag over the ambassador's door 
— a disturbance for w^hich the ambassador could obtain 
no satisfaction — obliged him to demand his passports. 
Upon his return to Paris he was appointed minister of 
war by the Directory. The subtlety of Sieyes, who was 
eclipsed by Bernadotte's republicanism, led the latter to 
offer his resignation ; it was accepted, and when Bona- 
parte landed at Frejus, Bernadotte had been for three 
months replaced by Dubois-Crance. 

Since Bonaparte's return, some of Bernadotte's friends 
had tried to have him recalled to the ministry; but Bona- 
parte had opposed the measure. This had caused hostil- 
ity, not the less real for being covert, between the two 
generals. Bernadotte's presence in Bonaparte's salon was 
therefore almost as extraordinary as that of I\roreau, and 
the entrance of the conqueror of Maestricht was remarked 
by as many as that of the conqueror of Eastadt had been. 
Onl}", instead of advancing to meet him, as he had done 
with Morean, Bonaparte contented himself with waiting 
until he approached. 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 217 

Bernadotte, from the threshold, cast a rapid glance 
around the room. He distinguished and analyzed the 
groups, and although he perceived Bonaparte in the centre 
of the principal one, he approached Josephinej who was 
half reclining upon a sofa, as beautiful as the statue of 
Agrippina in the Pitti Palace. He saluted her with all 
the courtesy of a chevalier, addressed a few compliments 
to her, inquired for her health, and only then looked 
about to see where he should find Bonaparte. 

Everything had too much significance at such a moment 
for each one not to remark this affectation of courtesy on 
the part of Bernadotte. Bonaparte, with his rapid and 
comprehensive mind, was not the last to notice it ; he be- 
came impatient, and instead of waiting for Bernadotte 
where he was, he moved towards the embrasure of a win- 
dow, as if he dared the ex-minister of war to follow 
him. 

Bernadotte bowed gracefully right and left, and, com- 
manding his ordinarily mobile countenance, he advanced 
towards Bonaparte, who awaited him as a duellist awaits 
his adversary, with his right foot forward and his lips 
compressed. The two men bowed ; Bonaparte, however, 
made no motion towards extending his hand to Berna- 
dotte, and neither did the latter attempt to take it. 

" Ah, is it you t" said Bonaparte. I am very glad to 
see you." 

"Thanks, General," replied Bernadotte, "I came here 
because I thought I owed you some explanation." 

" I did not recognize you at first." 

" And yet it seemed to me, General, that the servant 
announced my name in a sufficiently loud and clear voice 
to prevent any doubt of my identity." 

" Yes ; but he announced General Bernadotte." 

"Weill" 



218 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Well, I saw a man in citizen's clothes ; and while I 
recognized your name, I could not believe it was you." 

For some time Bernadotte had affected to wear a citi- 
zen's dress, in preference to his uniform. " You know," 
he replied laughing, " that I am not more than half a 
soldier ; citizen Sieyes is trying to reform me." 

" It seems it was a fortunate thing for me that you 
were not in power when I landed at Frejus." 

"Why?" 

" I have been told that if you had received the order 
to stop me for having neglected to take sanitary precau- 
tions, you would have obeyed it." 

" I said so, and I repeat it. General. As a soldier, I 
have always been a faithful observer of discipline ; as a 
minister I should be a slave to the law." 

Bonaparte bit his lips. "And you can say after that 
that you have not a personal enmity towards me ! " 

"A personal enmity towards you, General!" repeated 
Bernadotte. " Why should I have 1 We have always 
held very nearly the same rank, and I was even made a 
general before you ; my campaigns on the Rhine, while 
less brilliant than yours on the Adige, were not less pro- 
fitable for the Eepublic ; and when I had the honor to 
serve under your orders in Italy, I hope you found in me 
a lieutenant who was devoted, if not to the man, at least 
to the country. It is true that since your departure. Gen- 
eral, I have been more fortunate than you ; I have not 
had the command of a great army which, if Kleber's last 
despatches can be believed, you left in an unfortunate 
position." 

" What ! Kleber's last despatches ! Has Kleber 
written % " 

" Did you not know it, General 1 Has the Directory 
failed to acquaint you with the complaints of your sue- 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 219 

cessor 1 That was a great mistake, and I am doubly happy 
in having the opportunity to set myself right in your 
opinion, and to tell you what they are saying of you." 

Bonaparte fixed his piercing eyes on Bernadotte. " And 
what do they say of me 1 " he asked. 

" They say that since you had determined to return, 
you should have brought the army with you." 

" Did I have a fleet 1 And did you not know that 
Brueys had burned his 1 

''Then they say, General, that since you could not 
bring the army with you, you should have stayed there 
with it." 

"That is what I should have done if circumstances 
had not recalled me to France." 
" What circumstances. General 1 " 
" Your defeats." 

" I beg your pardon, — you mean Scherer's defeats." 
''They are yours also." 

" I am not responsible for the generals who commanded 
the armies of the Rhine and Italy before I became min- 
ister of war. If we were to enumerate the defeats and 
victories which have taken place since that time, we should 
soon see on which side the balance lies." 

" Do you mean to tell me that your affairs are in good 
condition 1 " 

" No ; but I do mean to say that they are not so badly 
off as you pretend to believe." 

" As I pretend ! To hear you, General, one would 
think that it was to my interest that France should be 
degraded in the eyes of strangers." 

" I do not say so. But I do say that I came to estab- 
lish with you the balance of our defeats and victories for 
the last three months ; and as I have come for that, and 
am here in your house as an accused person — " 



220 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Or as an accuser." 
" As accused, first, — I will begin." 
And I," said Bonaparte, visibly uneasy, " I will 
listen." 

" My ministry dates from the 30th Brairial, or the 8th 
of June, if you prefer to call it that. We will not quarrel 
over words." 

" That is as much as to say that we will over other 
things." 

Bernadotte continued without replying: "As I say, I 
entered the ministry on the 8th of June, a few days after 
the raising of the siege of St.-Jean-d'Acre." 

Bonaparte bit his lips. " I did not raise the siege of 
St.-Jean-d'Acre until I had ruined the fortifications," he 
said. 

" That is not what Kleber wrote ; but it is none of my 
business." Then he added, smiling : " That was in the 
time of Clarke's ministry." 

There was a moment of silence, during which Bona- 
parte endeavored to look Bernadotte out of countenance. 
Failing in this, he said : "Go on." 

Bernadotte bowed and continued : Perhaps never did 
a minister of war — and the records are there to prove 
what I say — perliaps never did a minister of war receive 
his portfolio under more critical circumstances. Civil war 
in the interior, the stranger at our gates, discouragement 
in our old armies, and the most absolute lack of means to 
establish new ones, — that was my condition on the even- 
ing of the 8th of June ; but I had already entered upon 
my duties.. From that time an active correspondence 
established with the civil and mihtary authorities rean- 
imated their conrage and their hopes. My addresses to 
the armies — perhaps I am wrong — are not those of a 
minister to his soldiers, but of a comrade to his comrades, 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 221 



just as my addresses to the administrators are those of one 
citizen to others. I appealed to the courage of the army 
and to the heart of the Trench, and I obtained all that I 
asked for; the national guard was organized with fresh 
zeal, legions were formed on the Rhine and the Moselle, 
battalions of veterans took the place of old regiments to 
reinforce those who were defending our frontiers ; to-day 
our cavalry has been recruited with forty thousand horses, 
and a hundred thousand conscripts, clothed, armed, and 
equipped, welcome with cries of ' Vive la Eepublique ! ' the 
flags under which they are to fight and conquer." 

But," interrupted Bonaparte, sharply, " you are mak- 
ing apologies for yourself." 

Very well ; I will divide my discourse into two parts. 
The first one will be an apology, if you choose to call it 
so ; the second will be an exposition of facts. Leaving the 
apology, I pass now to the facts. On the 17th and 18th 
of June came the battle of Trebbia. Macdonald wanted 
to fight without Moreau ; he crossed the Trebbia, attacked 
the enemy, was beaten, and fell back upon Modena. On the 
20th of June was the battle of Tortona ; Moreau beat the 
Austrian Bellegarde. On the 22d of July came the capit- 
ulation of the citadel of Alexandria to the Austro-Rus- 
sians ; the balance is in favor of defeat. On the 30th the 
surrender of Mantua; another check! On the 15th of 
August, the battle of Novi ; this was more than a check, — 
it was a defeat. Take note of it. General, for it was the 
last. While we were being beaten at Novi, Massena was 
holding his positions at Zug and Lucerne, and strength- 
ening himself upon the Aar and the Rhine, while Lecourbe, 
on the 14th and 15th of August, took the St.-Gothard. On 
the 19th came the battle of Bergen; Brune defeated the 
Anglo-Russian army, fifty-four thousand strong, and cap- 
tured the Russian general Hermann. On the 25th, 2Gth, 



222 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



and 27tli of the same month came the battles of Zurich ; 
Masse'na conquered the Austro-Eussians, commanded by 
Korsakoff , Hotze and three other Austrian generals were 
taken, and three were killed ; the enemy lost twelve 
thousand men, a hundred pieces of artillery, and all their 
baggage ; the Austrians,-separated from the Kussians, could 
not rejoin them until they were beyond Lake Constance. 
And that was the end of the progress which the enemy 
had been steadily making since the beginning of the cam- 
paign ; after Zurich was retaken, France was safe from 
further invasion. On the 30th of August Mohtor beat 
the Austrian generals Jellachich and Linken, and drove 
them back to the Grisons. On the 1st of September 
]\folitor attacked and beat General Eosemberg in the 
Muttathal. On the 2d Molitor compelled Souvaroff to 
evacuate Glaris, abandoning his wounded, his cannon, 
and sixteen hundred prisoners. On the 6th General Brune 
conquered for the second time the Anglo-Eussians, com- 
manded by the Duke of York. On the 7th General Gazan 
left Constance. On the 9th you landed near Frejus. 

"Well, General," continued Eernadotte, "since France 
is likely to pass into your hands, it is best for you to 
know the condition of things when you take it ; and in 
default of a receipt, a statement of these facts will serve 
to show its situation. We are making history, General, 
and it is important that those who will have an interest 
in falsifying it some day should find that Eernadotte has 
given them the lie." 

^' Do you say that for my benefit. General 1 " 
I say it for the benefit of flatterers. They say that 
your excuse for coming home is that you have returned 
because our armies were destroyed, because France was 
threatened, and the Eepublic in distress. Perhaps you 
held these opinions when you left Egypt ; but now that 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 223 



yoLi have reached France, this fear must disappear and 
give place to the contrary belief." 

I ask nothing better than to be of jouv opinion, Gen- 
eral," replied Bonaparte, with great "dignity ; and the 
more powerful you prove France to be, the more grateful 
I shall be to those to whom she owes her power and 
grandeur." 

Oh, it is perfectly clear, General. Three armies 
beaten and dispersed, the Russians exterminated, the 
Austrians conquered and routed ; twenty thousand pris- 
oners, a hundred pieces of artillery, fifteen flags, and all 
the baggage of the enemy in our power ; nine generals 
captured or killed, the Swiss free, our frontiers assured, 
and the Ehine proud to serve as their boundary, — this is 
the contingent of Masse'na, and the situation of Helvetia. 
The Anglo-Russian army twice conquered, entirely dis- 
couraged, abandoning its artillery, stores, and magazines 
of war to us ; even the women and children landing with 
the English, who looked upon themselves as already mas- 
ters of Holland ; eight thousand French and Batavian 
prisoners restored to their country, and Holland com- 
pletely evacuated, — this is the contingent of Bruue, and 
the situation of Holland. The rear guard of General 
Klenau forced to Iny down its arms at Villanova; a thou- 
sand prisoners and three pieces of artillery fallen into our 
hands, and the Austrians driven back beyond the Bormida; 
in all, including the battles of the Stura and Pignerol, 
four thousand prisoners, sixteen cannon, the occupation of 
all the country between the Stura and the Tanaro, — this 
is the contingent of Championnet and the situation of 
Italy. Two hundred thousand soldiers under arms, forty 
thousand mounted horsemen, — that is my own contin- 
gent, and the situation of France." 

But," asked Bonaparte, mockingly, if you have, as 



224 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



you say, two hundred and forty thousand soldiers under 
arms, what do you care for the fifteen or twenty thousand 
men whom I have in Egypt, and who are useful yonder 
for purposes of colonization 1 " 

"If I ask you for them, General, it is not hecause we 
need them, hut because I fear that they will meet with 
harm." 

" And what harm could come to them, commanded by 
KMber?" 

^^Kleber may be killed, General; and who is behind 
him ? Menou. Kleber and j^our twenty thousand men 
are lost, General." 

"Lost?" 

Yes, the sultan will send troops ; he has the land. 
The English will send fleets ; they have the sea. We 
have neither land nor sea, and we shall be obliged to 
watch from a distance the evacuation of Egypt and the 
capitulation of our army." 

" You are looking on the dark side of things, General," 
" The future will tell which of us has seen things as 
they are." 

" What would you have done in my place?" 
I do not know ; but even if I had had to take them 
around by way of Constantinople, I would not have aban- 
doned those whom France had confided to my care. 
Xenophon, on the border of the Tigre, was in a more 
desperate situation than you on the borders of the 
Nile ; he brought back the ten thousand from Ionia. 
And these ten thousand were not natives of Athens ; 
they were not even his fellow-countrymen ; they were 
only hired mercenaries." 

Bonaparte had not heard a word since Constantinople 
had been mentioned ; it seemed as if this name had 
awakened new ideas in his mind, and that he was follow- 



THE BALANCE SHEET OP THE DIRECTORY. 225 

ing Iiis own thoughts. • He put one hand on the aston- 
ished Bernadotte's arm, and with dreamy eyes, like one 
who follows in space the flight of a vanquished project, 
he said, — 

" Yes, yes ! I thought of it ; and that was why I was 
so determined to take that insignificant St.-Jean-d'Acre. 
You people here saw in it only my obstinacy, the useless 
loss of men, sacrificed to the vanity of a mediocre general 
w^ho feared to be reproached for a defeat. What would 
the lifting of the siege of St.-Jean-d'Acre have mattered 
to me, if St.-Jean-d'Acre had not been a barrier placed be- 
fore one of the most magnificent projects that ever was 
conceived 1 Cities ! I would have taken as many of them 
as Alexander and Csesar; but I had to take St.-Jean- 
d'Acre first. If I had taken that, do you know what I 
would have done?" 

His burning eyes were fixed upon Bernadotte, who 
this time lowered his own beneath the flame of genius. 

" What I would have done," said Bonaparte, seeming, 
like Ajax, to menace heaven with his fist, " if I had taken 
St.-Jean-d'Acre, would have been to find in the city the 
treasures of the pasha and arms for three hundred thou- 
sand men. I should have raised and armed all Syria, 
which had become so indignant at the ferocity of Djezzar 
that at each one of my assaults the people prayed for his 
downfall. I should have marched upon Damascus and 
Aleppo ; I should have increased my army with all the 
malcontents. As I advanced into the country I should 
have announced to the people the abolition of servitude, 
and the overthrow of the tyrannical government of the 
pashas. I should have arrived at Constantinople with an 
immense army ; I should have overthrown the Turkish 
army, and founded in Constantinople a great empire, 
which would have fixed my place in posterity above that 

VOL. I. — 15 



226 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



of Constantine and Mahomet II. Finally, perhaps I 
should have returned to Paris by way of Adrianople or 
Vienna^, after having annihilated the House of Austria. 
Ah, well, my dear general, this is the project which was 
made abortive by that miserable St.-Jean-d'Acre." And 
he so far forgot to whom he was speaking, rapt as he was 
in the debris of his vanished dream, that he actually 
called Bernadotte my dear general." 

The latter, almost frightened at the grandeur of the 
project which had just been revealed to him, had started 
back. " Yes," he said, " I see what you want ; you have 
just betrayed yourself. Be it in the Orient or the Occi- 
dent, you want a throne ! A throne ? Well, why not ? 
You may count on me to help you conquer it ; but it must 
be elsewhere than in France. " I am a republican, and a 
republican I will die." 

Bonaparte shook his head as if to drive away the 
thoughts which beset him. " I am a republican too," he 
said ; " but see what your republic has come to ! " 

"What does it matter? " exclaimed Bernadotte. " I am 
faithful neither to the word nor the form, but to the prin- 
ciple. Let the Directors only give me the power, and I 
will defend the Bepublic from its enemies at home as 
zealously as I have done from those abroad." 

As he said these words, Bernadotte raised his eyes, and 
his look met that of Bonaparte. Two naked swords could 
not have clashed with a more terrible and bui-ning light. 

For a long time Josephine had been uneasily watching 
the two men. She saw the double look full of mutual 
menace. She rose quickly, and going to Bernadotte, 
said, — 

"General!" 

Bernadotte bowed. 

" You are acquainted with Gohier, are you not ? " 



THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE DIRECTORY. 227 

" He is one of my Best friends, Madame," he replied. 

" Well, we are to dine there the day after to-morrow, 
the 18th Brumaire ; come and join us there, and bring 
your wife. I should be very happy to know her." 

" Madame," said Bernadotte, " in the time of the Greeks 
you would have been one of the three Graces ; in the 
Middle Ages you would have been a fairy ; in our day, 
you are the most adorable woman T know," And step- 
ping back as he bowed, he contrived to retire without in- 
cluding Bonaparte in his parting salute. 

Josephine followed him with her eyes until he had 
gone. Then she turned to her husband. 

" Well," she said, " so Bernadotte is not like Moreau 1 " 

" Enterprising, bold, disinterested, a sincere republican, 
inaccessible to bribery. He is a human obstacle ; he 
must be turned aside, since he cannot be overthrown." 
And leaving the salon without taking leave of any one, 
he went up to his office, whither Roland and Bourrienne 
followed him. 

They had been there scarcely a quarter of an hour when 
the door was softly opened, and Lucien appeared. 



228 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE PLAN FOR A DECREE. 

LuciEN was evidently expected. Bonaparte had not once 
pronounced his name since they had entered the room ; 
but although he was silent, he had with increasing im- 
patience turned his head three or four times towards the 
door, and when the young man appeared an exclamation 
of satisfaction escaped from his lips. 

Lucien was the general's youngest brother. He was born 
in 1775, and was therefore scarcely twenty-five 3^ears old. 
Since 1797, when he was twenty-two years old, he had 
been a member of the Council of the Five Hundred, who, 
to honor Bonaparte, had just nominated him its president. 
With Bonaparte's projects nothing could have been more 
fortunate. Frank and loyal, and a republican at heart, 
Lucien, in seconding his brother's plans, believed that he 
was serving the Republic even more than the future First 
Consul. In his opinion, no one could save it better a 
second time than the man who had already saved it once. 
Animated with this sentiment, he came in search of his 
brother. 

" Here you are," said Bonaparte ; " I have been im- 
patiently expecting you." 

" I suspected as much ; but I had to wait for an oppor- 
tunity to leave the room when I sliould not be noticed." 
And do you think you succeeded 1 " 

" Yes ; Talma was telling some story or other about 
Marat and Dumouriez. Although it appeared to be very 



THE PLAN FOR A DECREE. 



229 



interesting, I deprived myself of the pleasure of listening 
to it for the sake of coming here." 

" I just heard wheels. Did not the person who went 
away in the carriage see you coming upstairs'?" 

" The person was myself ; the carriage was mine. If 
my carriage is absent, every one will think that I have 
gone also." 

Bonaparte drew a long breath. Well," he asked, " and 
how have you spent your day ? " 
" It has not been lost time." 

" Shall we have the decree of the Council of the 
Ancients ? " 

" We drew it up to-day, and I have brought the rough 
draft to you, for you to see if there is anything to be cut 
out or added." 

" Let me see it," said Bonaparte. And hastily taking 
from Lucien's hand the paper which he gave him, he 
read : — 

^' Art. 1, The legislative body is transferred to the commune 
of St.-Cloud; the two branches will convene in the two wings 
of the palace." 

" That is the important article," said Lucien. I put it 
at the head so that the people might see it immediately." 
"Yes, yes," said Bonaparte. And he continued : — 

" ^ri 2. They will go there to-morrow, the 20th Brumaire — 

"No, no!" said Bonaparte; "to-morrow the 19th. 
Change the date, Bourrienne." And he passed the paper 
to his secretary. " You think everything will be ready 
for the ISth?" 

"Yes. Fouche said to me, day before yesterday, 
' Hurry things up, or I will answer for nothing.' " 

"19th Brumaire," said Bourrienne, returning the paper 
to the general. 



230 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Bonaparte continued : — 

" Art. 2. They will go there to-morrow, the 19th Brumaire, 
at noon. All continuation of deliberations is forbidden at any- 
other place, or before that date." 

Bonaparte reread the article. " That is right," he 
said. " There can be no double meaning there." And he 
continued : — 

"Art. 3. General Bonaparte is charged with the execution 
of this decree ; he will take all necessary measures for the 
safety of the national representation." 

A mocking smile passed over the firm lips of the reader; 
but he continued almost immediately : — 

" The general commanding the seventeenth military divi- 
sion, the guard of the legislative corps, the established national 
guard, the troops of the line who are in the commune of Paris, 
the constitutional district, and the whole extent of the seven- 
teenth division are put immediately under his orders, and 
commanded to recognize him as their commander." 

" Add, Bourrienne, ' All citizens will, upon request, 
aid him in keeping order.' The townsfolk delight in being 
mixed up in political affairs, and when we can make it 
serve our own ends, it is just as well to give them that 
pleasure." 

Bourrienne obeyed ; then he returned the paper to the 
general, who continued : — 

" Art. 4. General Bonaparte is called before the Council to 
receive a copy of this decree, and to take oath. He will act in 
concert with the commissary inspectors of the two Councils. 

Art. 5. The present decree will be immediately trans- 
mitted by messenger to the Council of the Five Hundred and 
to the Executive Directory. It will be printed, sealed and 
sent to all the communes of the Republic by special couriers. 

" Paris, the — " 



THE PLAN FOR A DECREE. 



231 



" The date is blank," said Lucien. 

"Put '18th Brumaire/ Bourrienne ; the decree must 
surprise every one. Given out at seven o'clock in the 
morning, it must at once, or even before that time, be 
affixed to the walls of Paris." 

" But if the Ancients refuse to ratify it 1 " 

" So much the more reason for having it posted, idiot ! " 
returned Bonaparte ; " we will act as if it had been rati- 
fied." Then, after a second's reflection, he added: "As 
for what you have just said about fearing that the decree 
might not be passed, there is a very simple means for 
gaining tliat point." 

''What is it?" 

" It is to summon for six o'clock in the morning the 
members of whom we are sure, and for eight o'clock those 
of whom we are doubtful. Having only our own men, it 
will go hard if we fail to get a majority." 

" But six o'clock for some, and eight o'clock for 
others — " said Lucien. 

" Take two different secretaries ; then one of them will 
have made a mistake." Then, turning towards Bour- 
rienne, he said : "Write ! " 

And while he walked back and forth he dictated unhes- 
itatingly, like one who has well considered beforehand 
what he is about to say, stopping from time to time before 
Bourrienne, to see if the secretary's pen followed his 
words, 

''Citizens I — The Council of the Ancients, the repository 
of national wisdom, has just ratified the subjoined decree; it 
is authorized m this Act by Articles 102 and 103 of the con- 
stitutional Act. 

" It has charged me with the duty of taking measures fox 
the safety of the national representatives, and for their neces- 
sary and temporary removal." 



232 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Bourrienue looked at Bonaparte. The latter would have 
liked to substitute "immediate" for "temporary;" but 
as the general did not correct himself, Bourrienne left the 
word " temporary." Bonaparte continued to dictate : — 

" The legisliitive body will also find itself called upon to 
rescue the Administration from the imminent danger to which 
the disorganization of all parties of the Administration has 
exposed it. 

*' In these circumstances, it needs the union and the con- 
fidence of all patriots. Rally around it ! It is the sole means 
of establishing the Republic upon the basis of civil liberty and 
prosperity, of victory and of peace." 

Bonaparte read over this proclamation, and made a sign 
with his head to indicate that it was correct. Then he drew 
out his watch. " Eleven o'clock," he said ; " there is still 
time." Then, taking Bourrienne's place, he wrote a short 
note, sealed it, and addressed it to " Citizen Barras," 

Roland," he said when he had finished, "take a horse 
from the stable, or a carriage from the square, and go to 
Barras's house. I have asked of him a rendezvous for 
to-morrow at midnight. There will be an answer." 

Roland went out. A moment afterwards they heard the 
galloping of a horse, going off in the direction of the Rue 
du Mont-Blanc. 

" ^^"ow, Bourrienne," said Bonaparte, after listening to 
the sound, "to-morrow at midnight, whether I am at 
home or not, you will get into my carriage and go in my 
place to Barras." 

" In your place, General 1 " 

"Yes; all day long he will be expecting me in the 
evening, and will do nothing, thinking that I am about to 
put him in my party. At midnight you will go to him 
and tell him that a distressing headache has obliged me 
to go to bed, but that T will come to him at seven o'clock 



THE PLAN FOR A DECREE. 



233 



in tlie morning, without fail. He may believe you, and 
he may not, but all events it will be too late for him to do 
anything against us ; and at seven o'clock in the morning 
I shall have ten thousand men under my orders." 

" Very well, General. Have you any other commands 
for me ? " 

"No, not this evening," replied Bonaparte; "come 
here early to-morrow." 
"And IV asked Lucien. 

" Go and see Sieyes. He holds the Council of the 
Ancients in the hollow of his hand; make all your ar- 
rangements with him. I do not care to have him seen 
here, and neither do I want to be seen at his house ; if by 
any chance we should fail, he is just the man to abjure 
liis share in the matter. On the day after to-morrow I 
want to be master of my own time, and to have no pos- 
itive engagements with any one." 

" Shall you need me to-morrow?" 

" Come at night and report." 

" Are you going back to the salon 1 " 

" No ; I shall wait for Josephine in her own apart- 
ments. Bourrienne, as you pass her, whisper a word in 
her ear, so that she may get away as soon as possible." 
And saluting his brother and Bourrienne, he sought Jose- 
phine's room through a private passage which communi- 
cated directly with his office. 

In that room, lighted only by the gleam of an alabaster 
lamp, which made the conspirator's forehead seem paler 
than ever, Bonaparte listened to the carriages as they 
rolled away one after another. Finally the last one de- 
parted, and five minutes later the door opened and Jose- 
phine entered. She was alone, and held in her hand a 
candlestick with two branches. Her face, in the double 
light, was full of the keenest anxiety. 



234 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"Well," said Bonaparte, "what is the matter?" 
"I am afraid," said Josephine. 

" Of what, — of those idiots of the Directory, or of the 
lawyers of the two Councils 1 Come ! of the Ancients, 
Sieyes is with me ; and of the Five Hundred, I have 
Lucien." 

" Is all going well, then 1 " 

"Wonderfully well." 

" When you sent word that you were waiting for me, I 
was afraid you had some bad news for me.'' 

" If I had bad news, do you suppose I would tell you ? " 
" How reassuring that is ! " 

"But do not be uneasy; I have none. However, I 
have given you a part in the conspiracy." 
"What is it?" 

" Sit down there and write to Gohier." 
That we will not dine with him ? " 

" On the contrar}^, ask him to come with his wife and 
breakfast with us. When persons love each other as 
much as we do, they cannot see too much of each other." 

Josephine seated herself at a rosewood secretary. " Dic- 
tate," she said, " and I will write." 

" What ! so that they may recognize my style 1 Oh, 
come ! you know better than I how to write one of those 
charming little notes which are so irresistible." 

Josephine smiled at the compliment, held up her fore- 
head for the loving kiss which Bonaparte pressed upon it, 
and WTote this note, which we copy from the original : — 

To Citizen Gohier, President of the executive Directory of 
the French Republic : 

" Is that right? " she asked. 

" Perfect ! As he will not have the title of president 
much longer, we will not grudge it to him." 



THE PLAN FOR A DECREE. 



235 



" Shall you do nothing for him then " 
" I will do anything that he likes, if he will do as I 
say. Go on, my dearest." 

Josephine took up her pen and wrote : — 

My dear Gohier, — Come to-morrow, with your wife, and 
breakfast with me, at eight o'clock in the morning. Do not 
fail to come ; I want to talk with you upon a very interesting 
subject. 

Adieu, my dear Gohier. Believe me to be always your 
affectionate friend, 

La Pagerie-Bonaparte. 

*'I said to-morrow," remarked Josephine; "I shall 
have to date my letter the 17th Brumaire." 

" And you will not be telling a falsehood," said Bona- 
parte, "for it is striking midnight now." 

In fact another day had fallen into the abyss of time, 
for the clock was striking twelve. Bonaparte listened to 
the strokes, gravely and thoughtfully. There were only 
twenty-four hours more between him and the solemn day 
for which he had been preparing for more than a month, 
and of which he had dreamed for three years. Let us do 
what he would like to have done ; let us leap over the 
twenty-four hours which separate us from that day of 
which history has not yet judged, and see what was pass- 
ing at seven o'clock in the morning in the different parts 
of Paris which were to be most affected by the events 
that we are about to relate. 



236 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

ALEA JACTA EST. 

At seven o'clock in the morning, Fouche, the minister 
of police, entered the house of Gohier, president of the 
Directory. 

" Ah/' said Gohier, when he saw him, " what is new 
now that gives me the pleasure of seeing you so early ]" 

'^Then you have not yet seen the decree?" asked 
Fouche. 

" What decree ? " asked the honest Gohier. 
" The decree of the Council of the Ancients." 
" Ratified when?" 
" Last night." 

^'Does the Council of the Ancients meet in the night 
now?" 

" When there is urgent business, yes." 

" And what does the decree say 1 " 
It transfers the place of meeting of the legislative 
body to St.-Cloud." 

Gohier felt the blow, and understood the part that 
Bonaparte's genius had taken in this. "And how 
long is it," he asked, since the minister of police 
was transformed into a messenger of the Council of the 
Ancients 1 " 

" That is where you are mistaken, citizen President," 
replied the other. "I am more the minister of police this 
morning than ever, for I have come to denounce to you 
an act which may have the most serious consequences." 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



237 



Fouclie did not know bow the conspiracy in the Rue de 
la Victoire would turn, and he was not sorry to open a 
door of retreat to the Luxembourg. 

But Gohier, honest as he was, knew the man too well 
to be his dupe. " You should have told me of this de- 
cree yesterday, and not this morning," he said ; for as it 
is, you have only forestalled by a few minutes the official 
announcement which will be made to me." 

In fact, the door opened at that moment, and a hussar 
announced that an envoy from the palace of the Ancients 
w^as waiting to give him a message. 

" Let him enter," said Gohier. 

The messenger entered and presented a letter to the 
president. The latter quickly broke the seal and read : — 

Citizen President, — The Commission hastens to an- 
nounce to you the decree of removal of the legislative body 
to St.-Cloud. The decree will be sent to you at once, but 
measures of safety demand details which now occupy us. 

We hereby invite you to attend the Commission of the 
Ancients. You will find Sieyes and Ducos there. 

With a brotherly salute, 

Barillon. 

Fargues. 

Cornet. 

Very well," said Gohier to the messenger, dismissing 
him with a sign. 

The messenger went out. Gohier turned to Fouche. 

"Ah," he said, ''the plot is well laid; they announce 
the decree to me, but do not send it to me. Fortunately, 
you can tell me its terms." 

But I know nothing of it," said Fouche. 

" What ! there has been a meeting of the Council of 
the Ancients, and you, the minister of police, know noth- 
ing about it, even although it is a special meeting 1 " 



238 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"Oh, yes; I knew about the meeting, hut I was not 
able to be present.'^ 

" And you did not have one of your secretaries there, 
or a stenographer, who could give you a detailed account 
of this meeting, although in all probability it is one which 
will change the destiny of France 1 Ah, citizen Fouche. 
you are either a very awkward or a very clever minister 
of police ! " 

" Have you any orders to give me 1 " inquired Fouche. 

"None," replied the president. " If the Directory sees 
fit to give orders, it will give them to men whom it deems 
worthy of its confidence. You can go back to those who 
sent you," he added, turning his back. 

Fouche went out, and Gohier rang immediately. A 
servant entered. 

** Go to the houses of Barras, Sieyes, Ducos, and 
Moulin, and ask them to come here immediately. Ah, and 
at the same time ask Mme. Gohier to come here to me, 
and to bring the letter from Mme. Bonaparte, inviting 
us to breakfast." 

Five minutes later Mme. Gohier entered, dressed to 
go out, with the letter in her hand. The invitation was 
for eight o'clock, and it was then half-past seven, and it 
would take at least twenty minutes to go from the Lux- 
embourg to the Eue de la Victoire. 

"Here it is, my dear," said Mme. Gohier, handing 
the letter to her husband ; " the invitation is for eight 
o'clock." 

'*Yes," said Gohier, "I was not doubtful of the hour, 
but of the day." And taking the letter from his wife's 
hands, he read : — 

My dear Gohier, — Come to-morrow, with your wife, and 
breakfast with me, at eight o'clock in the morning. Do not 
fail to come; I want to talk with you upon a very interesting 
subject." 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



239 



"Yes," he said, " there is no mistaking it." 

" Well, are we going ? " asked his wife. 

" You will go, but I cannot. Something has occurred 
of which citizen Bonaparte is probably aware, and which 
keeps us, my colleagues and myself, at the Luxembourg." 

" Something serious 1 " 

" Perhaps." 

" Then I shall stay with you." 

" Not at all ; you cannot be of the least use to me. Go 
to Mme. Bonaparte's. I may be mistaken ; but if any- 
thing extraordinary takes place, anything which seems 
suspicious to you, send me word instantly, by some means 
or other, — almost any way will do ; I shall understand." 

" Very well, then ; if I can be useful to you there, I 
will go." 

" Do so.'' 

Just then the servant entered. *' General Moulin is 
coming at once," he said. " Citizen Barras is at his bath, 
but will be here very soon. Citizens Sieyes and Ducos 
went out at five o'clock this morning, and have not yet 
returned." 

" There are the two traitors," said Gohier ; " Barras is 
only a dupe." And kissing his wife, he said : Go ! go 
at once ! " 

As she turned, Mme. Gohier found herself face to 
face with General Moulin ; he was naturally of a hasty 
temperament, and now he was much excited. 

"I beg your pardon," he said. Then bursting into 
Gohier's office, he exclaimed : " Well, President, do you 
know what has happened 1 " 

"No, but I have my suspicions." 

" The legislative body is transferred to St. -Cloud ; Gen- 
eral Bonaparte is charged with the execution of the decree, 
and the armed force is put under his orders." 



240 



THE COMPANIONS OF J^HU. 



"Ab, that's the bottom of the bag!" said Gohier. 
"Well, we must unite our forces to resist." 

"You have heard: Sieyes and Roger-Ducos are not 
at the palace." 

" They are at the Tuileries ! But Barras is at his bath ; 
let us hasten to him. The Directory can make arrests the 
moment they have a majority ; there are three of us. I 
repeat, let us resist ! " 

" Then we had better send word to Barras to come to 
us as soon as he leaves his bath." 

" No ; we will go and find him before he goes out." 

The two Directors went out quickly in search of 
Barras. They found him at his bath, and insisted upon 
entering. 

" What is it ?'* asked Barras, when he saw them, 

" Don't you know?" 

"Nothing at all." 

They told him what they knew. 

" Ah," said Barras ; "that explains everything." 

"What?" 

" Yes, that is why he did not come last evening." 

"Who?-' 

" Bonaparte." 

" You expected him last evening ? " 
" He sent word to me by one of his aide8-de-camp that 
he would be here between eleven and twelve o'clock." 
" And he did not come ?" 

" No ; he sent Bourrienne to me in his carriage to say 
that a violent headache kept him in bed, but that he 
would be here early this morning." 

The Directors looked at each other. "' It is perfectly 
clear," they said. 

"I have alread}^," continued Barras, '^sent Bollot, my sec- 
retary, a very intelligent fellow, to go and look him up." 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



241 



He rang, and a servant appeared. " As soon as citizen 
Bollot returns," said Barras, " send liira here."' 

" He is just getting out of the carriage." 

" Send him up at once ! " 

Bollot was already at the door. 

" Well 1 " asked the three Directors. 

" Well, General Bonaparte in full uniform, accompanied 
by Generals Beurnonville, Macdonald, and Moreau, is on his 
way to the Tuileries, where ten thousand men await him." 
Moreau ! Is Moreau with him ? " exclaimed Gohier. 

" At his right hand." 

"I always told you so," said Moulin, with military 
bluntness. " Moreau is a sneak, and nothing else." 

"Do you think we had better resist, Barras 1 " asked 
Gohier. 

" Yes," replied Barras. 

" Well then, dress yourself, and come to us in the Hall 
of Debates." 

After waiting ten minutes, Moulin said : " We shall 
have to wait a good while for Barras. If Moreau is a 
sneak, Barras is a turncoat ! " 

Two hours later they were still waiting for Barras. 
After they had left the bath-room, Talleyrand and Bruix 
had entered it; and in talking with them, Barras had 
forgotten that he was expected elsewhere. 

Now let us turn to the Eue de la Victoire. 

At seven o'clock, as usual, Bonaparte was up, and wait- 
ing in his room, dressed in full uniform. Roland entered. 
Bonaparte was perfectly calm, for he was on the eve of a 
battle. 

" Has no one come yet, Roland ? " he asked. 
" No, General," replied the young man ; but I heard 
carriage wheels just now." 

VOL. I. — 16 



242 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



So did I," said Bonaparte. 

Just then Joseph Bonaparte and General Bernadotte 
were announced. Eoland looked inquiringly at Bona- 
parte. Should he go or stay 1 He was to stay. Roland 
remained standing at the corner of a bookcase, like a sen- 
tinel at his post. 

" Ah," said Bonaparte, seeing Bernadotte, as on the 
previous night, dressed in civilian's clothes, " You seem to 
have a horror of a uniform. General." 

" Why should I put on a uniform at seven o'clock in the 
morning," asked Bernadotte, ''when I am not on duty?" 

" You will be soon." 

" Oh, I am not in active service." 

" I will set you to work." 

" You 1 " 

" Yes, I." 

" In the name of the Directory? " 
" Does the Directory still exist ? " 
"What! does it not?" 

" On your way here, did you not see soldiers marshalled 
in the streets leading to the Tuileries ?" 
" I saw them, and wondered at it." 
" Those soldiers are mine." 

" I beg your pardon," said Bernadotte, " I was under 
the impression that they belonged to France." 
" Well, France and I are one." 

" I did not know that," returned Bernadotte, coldly. 

" Well, you suspect it now, and this evening you will 
be sure of it. Come, Bernadotte ! this is a critical 
moment ; choose ! " 

" General," said Bernadotte, " at present I am only a 
common citizen ; permit me to remain one." 

" Bernadotte, take care ! he who is not for me is against 
me." 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



243 



" General, be careful what you say ; you said ' Take 
care ! ' If that is a threat, you know I do not care for it." 

Bonaparte went up to him and took both his hands. 
Yes, I know it," he said, " and that is why I am so 
anxious to have you with us. I not only esteem you, 
Bernadotte, but I like you. I will leave you with 
Joseph ; you are brothers-in-law, and relatives should 
not quarrel." 

" And where are you going 1 " 
Here is a decree, ratified last night by the council of 
Five Hundred, which confers upon me the immediate 
command of the armed force of Paris. I was therefore 
right when I told you that the soldiers you met were 
mine, since they are under my orders." And he put into 
Bernadotte's hands a copy of the decree which had been 
ratified at six o'clock that morning. 

Bernadotte read it through, from the first line to the 
last. " I have nothing to say to this,'^ he remarked. If 
you watch over the safety of the national representatives, 
all good citizens will be on your side." 

"Be on my side yourself, then." 

" Permit me, General, to wait twenty-four hours longer, 
to see how you fulfil your trust." 

" You are a devil of a man ! " said Bonaparte. Then 
taking him by the arm and drawing him towards Joseph, 
he said : "Bernadotte, I want to be frank witli jou.'' 

" What is the use," replied the latter, " since I am not 
of your party 

" Never mind ; you are in the audience, and I want the 
audience to bear witness that I have not cheated." 
" Do you ask secrecy of me 1 " 
"No." 

" You do well, for otherwise I should have refused to 
listen to your confidences." 



244 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHCJ. 



" Oh, my confidences are not long ones. Your Direc- 
tory is detested, your Constitution is worn out ; we must 
clear out the whole thing, and give another direction to 
the government. You do not reply ! 

''I am waiting to hear what else you have to tell 
me." 

" The rest that I have to say is to tell you to go and 
put on your uniform. T cannot wait for you any longer ; 
you will join me at the Tuileries, in the midst of my 
comrades." 

Bernadotte shook his head. 

"You think you can count on Moreau, Beurnonville, 
and Lefebvre," continued Bonaparte. "Here! lookout 
of the window ! What do you see there 1 Moreau and 
Beurnonville ! and as for Lefebvre, although I do not see 
him, I am sure that I shall not go a hundred feet without 
meeting him. Well, have you decided?" 

" General," replied Bernadotte, " I am never influenced 
by an example, particularly w^hen it is a bad one. Let 
Moreau, Beurnonville, and Lefebvre do as they like, and 
I will do as I ought." 

Then you positively refuse to accompan}^ me to the 
Tuileries]" 

" I do not wish to take part in a rebellion." 

" A rebellion ! and against whom 1 Against a lot of 
fools who quibble from morning to night." 

" These fools, General, are in this movement the repre- 
sentatives of the law, and the Constitution protects them ; 
they are sacred for me." 

" At all events, promise me one thing, bar of iron that 
you are ! " 

" What is it r' 

" To remain neutral." 

"As a citizen, I will remain neutral ; but — " 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



245 



" But what 1 Come, I have opened my heart to you ; 
now be frank with ine." 

" But if the Directory orders me to act, I shall march 
against the insurgents, whoever they may be." 

" Then you think me ambitious 1 " said Bonaparte. 

B(3rnadotte smiled. I suspect it," he said. 

" Ah, how little you know me ! " said Bonaparte. " I 
have had enough of politics ; and if there is one thing I 
desire above all others, it is peace. Ah, give me Malmaison, 
with an income of fifty thousand pounds, and I will say 
good-by to everything else. You do not believe me 1 I 
invite you to come and see me in three months, and if you 
like country life, we will agree. Well, au revoir / I will 
leave you with Joseph, and in spite of your refusal I will 
expect you at the Tuileries. There ! our friends are 
getting impatient." 

They could hear shouts of " Yive Bonaparte ! " Berna- 
dotte grew pale. 

Bonaparte noted the fact. "Ah," he murmured, 
"jealous ! " 

As Bonaparte had said, his friends were getting impa- 
tient. Since the decree had been posted, an hour be- 
fore, the ante-chambers and courtyard of the house had 
been thronged. The first person whom Bonaparte met at 
the top of the staircase was his fellow-countryman, Colo- 
nel Sebastiani. He commanded the Ninth regiment of 
dragoons. 

" Ah, is it you, Sebastiani ^ " said Bonaparte. ^' And 
your menl" 

" Are drawn up in line of battle in the Rue de la Vic- 
toire. General." 

" Are they well disposed ? " 

" Enthusiastic ! I have distributed ten thousand car- 
tridges among them, which were stored with me." 



246 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



^' Yes ; but wliich were not to have beeu removed with- 
out an order from the commandant of Paris. Do you 
know that you have burned your bridges behind you, 
Sebastiani '? " 

" Take me with you in your ship, General. I have faith 
in your fortunes." 

"Do you take me for Csesar, Sebastiani 1 " 

" By my faith, one miglit make a worse mistake than 
that ! There are, besides, in the courtyard of your house 
about forty officers, who are armed in all sorts of ways, 
who have not received their pay, and for whom the Direc- 
tory has not provided suitably for a year past : their only 
hope is in you, General ; they are ready to die for you." 

"It is well. Go and put yourself at the head of your 
regiment, and say good-by to it." 

"Good-by ! and what for, General^" 

"Because I am going to give you a brigade instead. 
Go !" 

Sebastiani did not need to be told twice. Bonaparte 
continued on his way. At the foot of the staircase he 
met Lefebvre. 

" It is I, General," said Lefebvre. 

" You ! And where is the Seventeenth military 
division 1 " 

" I am waiting for my appointment, in order to bring it 
into action." 

" Are you not appointed 1 " 

" By the Directory, yes ; but as I am not a traitor I 
have just sent in my resignation, so that they might know 
that they could not count on me." 

" And so you have come for me to appoint you, that I 
may be able to depend upon the genuineness of your com- 
mission, eh ? " 

" Exactly ! " 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



247 



" Quick, Roland, a commission in Llank ; fill it out 
with the general's name, so that I shall only have to sign 
my own. I will do it in the saddle." 

*'It will be just as good," said Lefebvre. 

" Roland ! " The young man, who had already taken a 
few steps to obey the order, turned and approached the 
general. " Take from my mantelpiece," said Bonaparte, 
in a low voice, "a pair of double-barrelled pistols which 
you will find there, and bring them to me at the same 
time. One never knows what may happen." 

" Yes, General," said Eoland ; " besides, I shall not 
leave you." 

'^Not unless I want to send you elsewhere to be 
killed." 

" That 's true," said the young man. And he ran to 
execute the double commission which he had just received. 

Bonaparte was about to continue on his way when he 
perceived a shadow in the corridor. He recognized Jose- 
phine, and went at once to her. 

"Oh," she said, " is there so much danger^" 

" What do you mean 1 " 

" I just heard the order you gave Roland." 

" That is what you get by listening at doors. And 
Gohierl" 

" He has not come." 

"Nor his wife either 1" 

" His wife is there." 

Bonaparte put Josephine aside with his hand, and en- 
tered the salon. Mme. Gohier was there alone, and very 
pale. 

"Well," he said, without any preamble, "and so the 
general did not come 1 " 

" It was impossible," replied Mme. Gohier. 

Bonaparte made an impatient movement. " It is abso- 



248 



THE COMPANIONS OF iEHU. 



lutely necessary tliat he should come," he said, ^' write 
him that I expect him ; I will have the letter sent." 

Thanks, General," replied Mme. Gohier. " My people 
are here ; they will take charge of it." 

" Write, my friend, write ! " said Josephine. And she 
brought pen, ink, and paper to the president's wife. 

Bonaparte placed himself where he could read over her 
shoulder as she wrote. Mme. Gohier looked at him 
steadily. He drew back a step and bowed. Mme. Gohier 
wrote. Then she folded the letter, and looked for wax ; 
but whether by accident or premeditation, there were only 
wafers on the table. She put one upon the letter, and 
rang the bell. A servant appeared. 

" Take this letter to Comtois," said Mme. Gohier, 
" and let him carry it instantly to the Luxembourg." 

Bonaparte followed the servant, or rather the letter, 
with his eyes until the door shut. Then he said to Mme. 
Gohier : " I regret that I shall not be able to breakfast 
with you ; but if the president has his affairs, so have I 
also mine. You will take breakfast with my wife. A 
good appetite to you ! " And he went out. At the door 
he met Roland. 

Here is the commission, General," said the young 
man, " and here is the pen." 

Bonaparte took the pen, and on the hack of his aide-de- 
camp^ s hat signed the commission. Roland then gave 
him the two pistols. " Have you examined them ? " he 
asked. 

Roland smiled. "I will answer for them," he replied. 

Bonaparte put the pistols into his belt, muttering as he 
did so, " I wish I knew what she wrote to her husband." 

*' I can tell you Avhat she wrote, word for word," said 
Bourrienne. 

YoU; Bourrienne ! " 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



249 



" Yes ; she wrote : ' You did well not to come, my 
dear ; everything here tells me that the invitation was a 
decoy. I will rejoin you as soon as possible.' " 
Did you unseal the letter?" 

" General, Sextus Pompey gave a dinner to Antony and 
Lepidus on board his galley ; his freeman came to say to 
him, ' Shall I make you emperor of the world 1 ' ' How 
so '? ' ' It is very simple ; I have only to cut the cable of your 
galley, and Antony and Lepidus are your prisoners.' 
' You should have done it without telling me,' replied 
Sextus ; ' now you must not do it, for your life ! ' I re- 
membered those words, General : ' You should have done 
it without telling me.' " 

Eonaparte remained lost in thought for a moment ; 
then rousing himself from his re very, he said : " You are 
wrong ; it was Octavius, and not Antony, who was on the 
galley with Lepidus." And he went down to the court, 
limiting his reproach to correcting the historical error. 

Scarcely had he appeared npon the step, when cries of 
" Vive Bonaparte ! " resounded on all sides, and reaching 
the street awoke the same cry in the mouths of the 
dragoons stationed there. 

" That is a good augury, General," said Koland. 

" Yes ; give Lefebvre his commission ; and if he has 
no horse, give him one of mine. I will meet him in the 
court of the Tuileries." 

" His division is already there." 

" So much the better." 

Then looking around him, Bonaparte saw Beurnonville 
and Moreau waiting for him ; their horses were held by 
servants. He saluted them with a gesture which was more 
like that of a master than a comrade. Then, perceiving 
General Debel without his uniform, he descended two steps 
and went to him. 



250 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Why are you in citizen's clothes'?" he asked. 

" General, I knew nothing of what was going on. I 
chanced to be passing through the street, and seeing a 
commotion before your house I came in, fearing that you 
were in some danger." 

Go at once and put on your uniform." 

" I live at the other end of Paris ; it would take too 
long." But at the same time he turned to go. 

" What are you going to do 1 " 

"■ I will manage it, General." 

Debel had motioned to an artilleryman on horseback ; 
the man was about his own figure. My man," said he, 
" I am General Debel ; by order of General Bonaparte, 
give me your coat and horse. I will excuse you from 
service to-day ; here is a louis for you to go and drink to 
the health of the general-in-chief. To-morrow you may 
come to my house and get your coat and horse back again. 
I live on the Eue du Cherche-Midi, No. 11." 
And shall I get nothing more 1 " 

" Yes ; you will be appointed a brigadier." 

" Good ! " said the artilleryman. And he gave his uni- 
form and horse to General Debel. 

In the mean time Bonaparte had heard voices above him, 
and looking up he saw Joseph and Bernadotte at a win- 
dow. "Eor the last time, General," he said to Berna- 
dotte, " will you come with me " 

" No," replied the other, firmly. Then he added in a 
low voice : "You told me just now to take care." 

''Yes." 

" Well, now I tell you to take care ! " 
"Of what r' 

" You are going to the Tuileries ] " 
"Yes." 

*' The Tuileries are very near the Place de la Revolution." 



ALEA JACTA EST. 



251 



" Bah ! " said Bonaparte, "the guillotine has been trans- 
ferred to the Barriere du Trone." 

What does it matter ? The brewer Santerre com- 
mands the Faubourg St.-Antoine, and Santerre is Moulin's 
friend." 

" Santerre has been warned that at the first movement 
he attempts I will have him fired upon. Will you come ] 
'^No." 

As you please. You separate your fortunes from mine, 
but I do not separate mine from yours." 

Then he called for his horse. It v/as brought to him. 
But seeing an artillery soldier near him, he said : What 
are you doing here, in the midst of these officers 1 " 

The artilleryman began to laugh. " Do you not recog- 
nize me, General ] " he said. 

" Why, upon my word, it is you, Debel ! Where clicl 
you get that horse and uniform 1 " 

" From that artilleryman whom you can see yonder, on 
foot and in his shirt-sleeves. It will cost you a brigadier's 
commission." 

" It will cost me two commissions, Debel," returned 
Bonaparte, — " one for a brigadier, and one for a general of 
division. Forward, march, gentlemen ! to the Tuileries." 

And stooping upon his horse a little, as was his habit, 
his left hand holding the loose reins, and his right resting 
upon his thigh, his head bent forward, his brow thought- 
ful, and his look dreamy, Bonaparte took the first steps 
upon that road at once glorious and fatal, which was to 
lead him to a throne, — and to St. Helena. 



252 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE 18th BRUMAIRE. 

When he entered the Rue de la Yictoire, Bonaparte found 
Sebastiani's dragoons drawn up in line of battle. He 
attempted to speak to them, but interrupting him at the 
first word, they exclaimed : — 

" We do not need any explanations ; we know that you 
desire only the good of the Republic. Vive Bonaparte ! " 
And still shouting "Vive Bonaparte!" the procession 
passed through the streets which led from the Rue de la 
Victoire to the Tuileries. 

General Lefebvre, true to his promise, was waiting at 
the gate of the palace. 

Upon Bonaparte's arrival, he was saluted with the same 
shouts which had accompanied him on the road. He 
shook his head. Perhaps he was already dreaming of the 
time when, instead of " Vive Bonaparte ! " he would hear 
shouts of " Vive Napoleon ! " He advanced to the head 
of his troops, and surrounded by an immense staff, he 
read the decree of the Five Hundred, which transferred 
the meeting-place of the legislative body to St.-Cloud, 
aud gave hira the command of the military. Then from 
memory, or improvising (for Bonaparte never confided 
this kind of secret to any one), instead of the proclama- 
tion which he had dictated to Bourrienne, he pronounced 
this one : — 

Soldiers ! — The special meeting of the Ancients has 
intrusted to me the command of the city and army. I have 



I 



THE 18th brumaire. 253 

accepted it in order to second the measures whicli it is about 
to adopt, and whicti are entirely in favor of the people. 

" The Republic has been poorly governed for the past two 
years. You have hoped that my return would put an end to 
many evils; you have celebrated it by a union that imposes 
upon me the obligations which 1 am about to fulfil. On your 
side, you will fulfil your own obligations, and will second your 
general with the energy, firmness, and confidence which have 
always been noticeable in you. Liberty, victory, and peace 
will once more place the French Republic in the rank which 
it formerly occupied in Europe, and which it has lost only 
through foolishness and treachery." 

The soldiers applauded frantically ; it was a declaration 
of war against the Directory, and soldiers always applaud 
a declaration of war. 

The general dismounted amid shouts and acclamations. 
He entered the Tuileries. It was the second time that he 
had crossed the threshold of the palace of the Valois, which, 
had so ineffectually sheltered the crown and the head of the 
last Bourbon who had reigned there. Beside him marched 
citizen Roederer. When he recognized him, Bonaparte 
shuddered. 

" Ah, citizen Roederer," he said, " you were here on 
the morning of the 10th of August ? " 

"Yes, General," replied the future count of the Empire. 

" You advised Louis XVL to give himself up to the 
National Assembly 1 " 

"Yes." 

" It was bad advice, citizen Roederer ! I should not 
have followed it." 

" One advises men according to their characters. I 
should not give General Bonaparte the advice which I gave 
King Louis XVI. When a king has among the records of 
his past the flight from Varennes and the 20th of June, 
it is difficult to save him." 



254 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



As Roederer pronounced these words, they came to a 
window which looked out upon the garden of the Tuile- 
ries. Bonaparte stopped, and seizing Eoederer by the 
arm, said : — 

" On the 20th of June I was there," — and he pointed 
to the terrace on the border of the water, — " behind the 
third linden. I could see through the open window the 
poor king with his red cap on his head ; he was a pitiful 
sight, and I was sorry for him." 

" And what did you do 1 " 

" Oh, I did nothing, — there was nothing I could do ; I 
was only a lieutenant of artillery. But I longed to enter 
with the others and say to him softly, ' Sire, give me four 
pieces of artillery, and I will sweep away all this rabble 
for you ! 

What would have happened if Lieutenant Bonaparte 
had been able to carry out his desire, and, well received 
by Louis XVL, had in truth swept away the '^rabble," 
— in other words, the people of Paris'? If he had 
fought for the king on the 20th of June, -would he not 
have been bound to fight for the Convention on the 13th 
Vendemiaire 1 

While the ex-procureur-syndic, lost in a brown study, 
was perhaps already composing in thought the first pages 
of his "History of the Consulate," Bonaparte presented 
himself at the bar of the Council of the Ancients, fol- 
lo\ved by his staff, who were in turn followed by all 
who cared to come. When the tumult caused by the 
arrival of this crowd had ceased, the president read to 
the general the decree which invested him with mili- 
tary power. Then, as he called upon him to take oath, 
he added : — 

''He who has never in vain promised victories to his 
country cannot fail religiously to fulfil his new promise to 
serve it, and to remain faithful to it." 



THE 18th BRUMAIRE. 



255 



Bonaparte raised his hand, and said solemnly : " I 
swear it ! " 

All the generals in turn repeated after him, each one 
for himself: " I swear it ! " 

Scarcely had the last one finished, when Bonaparte 
caught sight of Barras's secretary, the same BoJlot of 
whom the Director had spoken to his two colleagues in the 
morning. He had come merely to he ahle to give an ac- 
count to his employer of what had taken place. Bona- 
parte, however, believed him to be charged by Barras 
with some secret mission. He resolved to spare him the 
first step, and walking straight up to him he said : — 

" Have you come by order of the Directors 1 " Then, 
without giving him time to reply, he continued : " What 
have they done with the France that I left in such a 
brilliant condition? I left peace, and I find war; I left 
victories, and I find defeats ; I left the millions gathered 
from Italy, and I find spoliation and misery. What has 
become of those hundred thousand Frenchmen whom I 
knew by name? They are dead ! " 

It was scarcely to the secretary of Barras that these 
tilings should have been said ; but Bonaparte wanted to 
say them, and was unable to resist the desire. Little did 
he care to whom they were said ; perhaps he even thought 
it would be better to say them to some one who could not 
reply. 

Just then Sieyes rose. " Citizens," he said, " the Direc- 
tors Moulin and Gohier desire to be admitted." 

" They are no longer Directors," said Bonaparte, " be- 
cause there is no longer a Directory." 

"But," objected Sieyes, ''they have not yet sent in 
their resignation." 

" Let them enter, then, and give it," said Bonaparte. 

Moulin and Gohier entered. They were pale but calm ; 



256 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



they knew that they were about to face a struggle, and 
that perhaps they might find Sinnamari behind their re- 
sistence. The exiles for which they had been responsible 
on the IStli Fructidor loomed up before them now. 

" I am glad to see," Bonaparte hastened to say to them, 
" that you have yielded to our wishes and those of your 
two colleagues." 

Gohier took a step forward, and said in a firm voice : 
" We have yielded neither to your wishes nor to those of 
our two colleagues, who are our colleagues no longer, since 
they have sent in their resignation ; we have yielded to 
the voice of the law. The law demands that the decree 
which transfers to St.-Cloud the seat of the legislative 
body shall be proclaimed without delay ; we have come to 
fulfil the duty thus imposed upon us by law, determined 
to defend it against those, whoever they may be, who 
attempt to attack it." 

^'Your zeal does not astonish us," replied Bonaparte, 
coldly j " and it is because you are known to be a lover of 
your country that you are about to unite yourself to us." 

" To join you ! For what reason ? " 

"To save the Republic." 

" To save the Eepublic ! There was a time, General, 
when you had the honor of being its mainstay ; but now 
the glory of saving it will rest with us." 

" Saving it ! " echoed Bonaparte ; " and with what % 
With the means which your Constitution gives you ? Look 
at it ! it is crumbling in every direction ; and even if I 
did not give it a push now, it would fall in a few days." 

" Ah," exclaimed Moulin, then you confess your hos- 
tile projects at last ! " 

"My projects are not hostile," exclaimed Bonaparte, 
with a stamp of his foot. " The Eepublic is in peril ; it 
must be saved, and I will do it ! " 



THE 18th BRUMAIRE. 



257 



" You ' will ' ] " repeated Goliier. " It seems to me that 
it is the Directory and not you who should say ' I will ! ' " 

" There is no longer any Directory." 

" Ah, I was told that you announced that as a fact a 
moment before we entered." 

From the moment that Sieyes and Roger-Ducos sent 
in their resignation, there was no longer a Directory." 

" You are mistaken. The Directory exists as long as 
there are three remaining members ; and neither Moulin 
nor I nor Barras have sent in our resignation." 

Just then a paper was slipped into Bonaparte's hand. 
He read it. 

" You yourself are mistaken," he said ; " Barras has 
sent in his resignation, for here it is. To preserve your 
existence, there must be three of you ; there are only two 
now, and he who resists the law, as you said a while ago, 
is a rebel." Then giving the paper to the president, he 
said : Put the resignation of citizen Barras with that of 
citizens Sieyes and Ducos, and announce that the Direc- 
tory has ceased to exist. I will tell my soldiers of it 
myself." 

Moulin and Gohier were stunned; this defection of 
Barras destroyed all their plans. 

Bonaparte had nothing more to do in the Council of 
the Ancients, and he had much to attend to in the court 
of the Tuileries. He went down, followed by those who 
had accompanied him. As soon as the soldiers caught 
sight of them, cries of " Vive Bonaparte ! " resounded 
more loudly and eagerly than ever. He leaped upon his 
horse, and made a sign that he wanted to speak to them. 
Ten thousand voices which had been rending the air with 
acclamations were suddenly silent, as if hushed by an 
enchanter's wand. 

" Soldiers ! " said Bonaparte, in a voice so powerful 

VOL. I. — 17 



258 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU, 



that it was heard on all sides, " your companions in arms 
on the frontiers are deprived of the necessaries of life ; 
the people are miserable ; and the authors of all this 
misery are those against whom I assemble you to-day. I 
hope before long to lead you to victory ; but first we must 
make those who would oppose good public order and the 
general prosperity powerless to injure." 

Whether from weariness of the dictatorial government, 
or from the fascination exercised upon them by the magic 
man who called them to victory, which had been almost 
forgotten in his absence, cries of enthusiasm arose, and 
like a train of lighted powder spread from the Tuileries 
to the Carrousel, and from there to the adjacent streets. 

Bonaparte took advantage of the movement, and turn- 
ing to Moreau, he said: "General, I am going to give you 
a proof of my great confidence in you. Bernadotte, whom 
I left at my house, had the audacity to tell me that if he 
received an order from the Directory he should execute it, 
no matter against whom. General, I confide to you the care 
of the Luxembourg ; the peace of Paris and the safety of 
the Republic are in your hands." And without waiting 
for a reply, he galloped off to the other end of the line. 

Moreau, through military ambition, had consented to 
play a part in this great drama ; and he was obliged to 
accept the one assigned to him by its author. 

Gohier and Moulin, when they returned to the Luxem- 
bourg, found everything in apparently the same condition ; 
all the sentinels were at their posts. They retired to one 
of the salons to consult. But scarcely had they begun 
their conference when General Jube, commanding at the 
Luxembourg, received the order to join Bonaparte at the 
Tuileries with the dictatorial guard, and to leave in his 
place Moreau and the soldiers who were still thrilling witli 
Bonaparte's address. However, the two Directors drew up 



THE 18th BRUMAIRE. 



259 



a message to the Council of Five Hundred, in which they 
protested energetically against what had occurred. When 
it was done, Gohier sent it to his secretary ; and Moulin, 
who was faint with hunger, went home to get some food. 

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. A moment 
afterwards, Gohier's secretary returned in a state of great 
excitement. 

" Well," said Gohier, have you not gone yet ? '* 
" Citizen President," replied the young man, " we are 
prisoners in the palace ! " 
" What ! prisoners % " 

" The guard is changed, and General Jube no longer 
commands." 

Who has taken his place % " 

I believe it is General Moreau." 

Moreau ! impossible. And Barras, the coward ! where 
is her' 

" Gone to his country place at Grosbois." 

"Ah, I must see Moulin," said Gohier, hastening to- 
wards the door. 

But at the entrance to the corridor he found a sentinel 
who barred his passage. Gohier insisted. 

" No one can pass," said the sentinel. 

" What ! no one can pass % " 

" No." 

But I am President Gohier ! " 

" No one can pass ; those are the orders." 

Gohier saw that he could make no headway against 
these orders. It was impossible to use force. He went 
back. 

In the mean time General Moreau had gone to Moulin's 
house ; he went to justify himself. But without listening 
to him, the ex-director turned his back. As Moreau per- 
sisted, he said, — 



260 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"General, go into the ante-cham"ber ; that is the place 
for jailers ! " 

Moreau hung his head, as he realized the snare into 
which his reputation had fallen. 

At five o'clock Bonaparte returned to the Rue de la 
Victoire ; all the generals and superior officers in Paris 
accotupanied him. Even the blindest, those who had not 
understood the 13th Vendemiaire or the return from Egypt, 
had now seen the flaming star of his future shining above 
the Tuileries ; and as they could not all be planets, each 
one strove for the place of satellite. 

Cries of " Vive Bonaparte ! " which, starting from the 
Eue du Mont-Blanc, rolled like an ocean of sound towards 
the Eue de la Victoire, announced to Josephine the return 
of her husband. The impressionable Creole was filled 
with anxiety ; she hastened towards him, so overcome with 
emotion that she could not pronounce a single word. 

" Come, come ! " said Bonaparte, becoming his own 
kindly self, " calm yourself ; everything that could be 
accomplislied to-day has been done." 

" And is everything done 1 " 

"Oh, no ! " replied Bonaparte. 

"Then it will have to begin again tomorrow'?*' 

" Yes, but to-morrow it will be only a formality." 

The formality was a little severe, but every one knows 
the result of what took place at St.-Cloud. ^^e will there- 
fore not stop to relate it, merely naming the result, for we 
are in haste to return to the main subject of our drama, 
from which we have been turned aside for the moment by 
the grand historical figure that we have introduced. 

A final word. On the 20th Brumaire, at one o'clock in 
the morning, Bonaparte was nominated first consul, and 
he immediately associated with himself Cambaceres and 
Lebrun under the title of second consuls, being resolved 



THE 18th BRUMAIRE. 



261 



as Le did so to concentrate in his own person not only 
the duties of his colleagues, but those of the ministers as 
well. On the night of the 20th Brumaire he slept at the 
Luxembourg, in the bed of citizen Gohier, which, as well 
as that of his colleague Moulin, had been given up during 
the day, 

Roland was named governor of the castle of the 
Luxembourg. 



262 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 

Some little time after this military revolution, a report of 
which had resounded through all Europe, whose surface 
it had disturbed for a moment, as the tempest disturbs 
the surface of the ocean, — some time afterwards, we say, 
on the morning of the 30th Nivose, better known to our 
readers as the 22d of January, 1800, Eoland in going 
through the immense correspondence which came to him 
daily in his new office found among many others a letter 
which read as follows : — 

Monsieur the Governor, — I know your loyalty, and 
you will see that I value it. I must talk with you for five 
minutes. During these five minutes I shall be masked. I 
have a demand to make of you. You will grant it or refuse 
it, as you think best ; but in either case, as I attempt to pene- 
trate into the palace of the Luxembourg only in the interests 
of Consul Bonaparte and the royalist cause to which I belong, 
I ask your word of honor to allow me to go away as freely as 
I enter. 

To-morrow, at seven o'clock in the evening, if I see a solitary 
light in the window above the clock, it will tell me that Colonel 
Roland de Montrevel has pledged me his word of honor, and 
I will present myself boldly at the little door in the left wing 
of the palace looking out upon the garden. I will strike upon 
it three blows at intervals, after the manner of free-masons. 

In order that you may know beforehand to whom you are 
pledging or refusing your word, I will sign this with a name 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



263 



which is known to you, and which has already, under circum- 
stances that you probably have not forgotten, been pronounced 
before you. 

MOKGAN, 

Chief of the Companions of Jehu. 

Roland read and reread the letter. He remained 
tlioughtful for a moment, and then suddenly rising he 
went into the private office of the consul. Silently he 
held out the letter to him. The latter read it without be- 
traying the least emotion or even astonishment, and then 
replied laconically, — 

"You had better put the light there." And he re- 
turned the letter to Roland. 

The next day, at seven o'clock in the evening, the light 
was burning in the window, and at five minutes past 
seven Roland himself was waiting at the garden door. 
He had waited there only a few minutes, when three 
blows were struck upon the door after the manner of free- 
masons ; that is to say, two and one. The door opened 
immediately, and a man wrapped in a cloak was boldly 
outlined upon the gray atmosphere of the winter night. 
As for Roland, he was entirely concealed in the shadows. 
Seeing no one, the man with the cloak remained for a 
moment motionless. 

" Come in," said Roland. 
Ah, is it you. Colonel 1 

" How do you know it is I ] " asked Roland. 

" I recognized your voice." 

"My voice ! But during the few minutes we were to- 
gether in the same room at Avignon I did not speak a 
single word." 

" In that case I must have heard your voice somewhere 
else." 

Roland tried to think where the chief of the compan- 



264 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



ions of Jehu could have heard his voice ; but the latter 
continued gayly, — 

" Because I know your voice, Colonel, is it any reason 
"vvhy we should stay at this door 1 " 

" Not at all," said Eoland. " Take hold of the skirt of 
mj coat and follow me, I purposely forbade them to 
light the staircase or the corridor which leads to my 
room." 

" I thank you for your kindness, but with your parole 
I could go from one end of the palace to the other, even 
were it lighted a giorno, as the Italians say." 

''You have my word of honor," replied Roland; "so 
you need not fear to come up." 

Morgan did not need to be encouraged ; he followed 
his guide boldly. At the head of the staircase Roland 
turned into a corridor which was equally dark, took a few 
steps along it, and then opened the door of his own room. 
Morgan followed him. The room was lighted, but only 
by two candles. When he had entered, Morgan threw off 
his cloak, and placed his pistols on the table. 

" What are you doing ? " asked Roland. 

"With your permission," said the other, gayly, "mak- 
ing myself comfortable." 

"But these pistols wliich you have taken offi" 

" Ah, did you think I brought them for your benefit 1 " 

"For what, then?" 

"For the police. You must know that I am not in- 
clined to allow myself to be taken by citizen Fouche with- 
out burning the mustache of the first one of his satellites 
who puts his hands on me." 

" Then since you are here, you think you have nothing 
more to fear ? " 

" I am sure of it," said the young man, " since I have 
your word." 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



265 



Then why do you not take off your mask 1 " 

" Because my face is only half my own. The other 
half belongs to my companions ; and who knows, if one 
of us were to be recognized, whether it would not bring 
all the otliers to the guillotine 1 You see, Colonel, I do 
not disguise from myself the game that I am playing." 
Then why do you play it?" 

" Ah, that is a fine question ! Why do you go upon 
the battle-field, where a bullet might put a hole through 
your chest, or a cannon-ball take off your head ? " 

"That is very different, if you will permit me to say 
so. On the battle-field I risk an honorable death." 

" Ah, then you think that if I had my neck cut off by 
a revolutionary triangle, I should be dishonored ? Not the 
least in the world. I call myself a soldier as well as you, 
only all cannot serve their cause in the same way. Each 
religion has its heroes and its martyrs. Happy in this 
•world are the heroes ; happy in the next are the martyrs ! " 

The young man pronounced these words with a convic- 
tion which could not fail to move, or rather astonish, 
Roland. 

" But," continued Morgan, abandoning this high strain 
and returning to the gayety which appeared to be a dis- 
tinctive trait in his character, ''I did not come here to 
talk political philosophy ; I came to ask you to arrange 
an interview for me with the First Consul." 

"What, with the First Consul !" exclaimed Roland. 

" Yes ; read my letter again. I told you that I had a 
request to make of you." 

" Yes." 

" Well, this request is to allow me to speak with Gen- 
eral Bonaparte." 

" I beg your pardon, but as I did not expect this 
request — " 



266 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



It astonishes you ; it even makes you uneasy. But, 
my dear colonel, you may, if you cannot depend upon my 
word, searcli me from head to foot, and you will see that 
I have no other weapons than these pistols, and that even 
those are there upon the table. Better still, take one in 
each hand, place yourself between the First Consul and 
me, and blow my brains out at the first suspicious move- 
ment that I make. Do you like the conditions ? 

" Before I disturb the First Consul in order that he may 
listen to the communications which you have to make to 
him, will you assure me that these communications are 
worth the trouble'?" 

" Oh, as to that, I will answer for it." Then with his 
joyous accent Morgan added : " I am for the moment the 
ambassador of a crowned head ; or rather of one which 
has lost its crown, — a circumstance which does not render 
it the less worthy of the respect of noble hearts. Be- 
sides, I will not take much of the general's time, and the 
moment the conversation becomes tedious he can dis- 
miss me. I will not make him say it twice, you may be 
sure." 

Eoland remained silent and thoughtful for a moment. 
" And it is to the First Consul alone that you can make 
this communication?" 

" To the First Consul alone, since he alone can reply 
to me." 

" Very well ; wait for me ; I will go and tell him." 

Roland took one step towards the general's room ; then 
he stopped and cast an uneasy glance towards the heap of 
papers on the table. 

Morgan caught the look. "Oh," he said, "you are 
afraid that I will read these papers in your absence 1 If 
you only knew how I detest reading ! I dislike it so much 
that if my death-warrant was on this table I should not 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 267 



give myself the trouble to read it. I should say, ' That 
is the clerk's business; let him attend to his own work.' 
Monsieur Eoland, my feet are cold, and I am going to sit in 
your armchair and warm them while you are gone. You 
will find me there when you get back, and I shall not 
have stirred." 

" Very well," said Roland. And he went into the 
First Consul's room. 

Bonaparte was talking with General Hedouville, com- 
mander-in-chief of the troops of la Vendee. When he 
heard the door open he turned around impatiently. 1 
told Bourrienne that I could see no one." 

" So he said as I came along, General. But I told him 
that I was no one." 

" You are right. What do you want. Speak quickly." 

" He is in my room." 
Who]" 

" The man from Avignon." 

" Ah, what does he want % " 

*• He wants to see you." 
To see me personally '? " 

Yes, you. General. Does that astonish you 1 " 
" No ; but what can he have to say to me % " 
*' He has obstinately refused to tell me ; but I do not 
think he is either a beggar or a fool." 
No, but perhaps he is an assassin." 
Roland shook his head. 

Well, since you answer for him — " 
" Besides, he does not refuse to allow me to be present 
at the conference. I shall be between you and him." 

Bonaparte thought for a moment. " Let him enter," 
he said. 

" You know, General, that except for me — " 

"Yes, General Hedouville will have the goodness to 



268 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



wait foT a moment. Oar conversation cannot be finished 
in one sitting. Go, Roland." 

Roland went out through Bourrienne's office, entered 
his own room, and found Morgan there, warming his feet, 
as he had said. " Come, the First Consul is waiting for 
you," said the 3'Oung man. 

Morgan rose and followed Roland. When he entered 
Bonaparte's room the latter was alone. He glanced quickly 
at the chief of the companions of Jehu, and recognized 
the same man whom he had seen at Avignon. 

iMorgan stopped a few steps from the door, and in his 
turn looked at Bonaparte curiously. He was confirmed in 
his suspicion that it was he whom he had seen at the talle 
cVhote on the day when he had taken such risks to restore 
the two hundred louis stolen by mistake from Jean Picot. 

" Come in," said the First Consul. 

Morgan bowed and took three steps forward. Bonaparte 
replied to his bow by a slight movement of his head. 

" You told my aide-de-camp, Colonel Roland," he said, 
" that you had some communication to make to me." 

"Yes." 

" Does that communication demand a tete-a-tete 
" No ; although it is of such importance — " 
" That you would like better to see me alone 1 " 
" Yes ; but prudence — " 
The most prudent thing in France, citizen Morgan, is 
courage." 

" My presence here. General, is a proof that I am en- 
tirely of your opinion." 

Bonaparte turned towards the young colonel. " Leave 
us alone," he said. 

"But, General," the latter began. 

Bonaparte approached him and said in a low tone : " I 
see what is the matter. You are curious to know what 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



269 



this mysterious highway gentleman can have to say to me ; 
but you may rest assured you will know it later." 

" It is not that ; but if, as you said just now, this gen- 
tleman should be an assassin " 

" Did you not tell me that he was not ? Come, do not 
be childish; leave us." 

Roland went out. 
We are alone, sir," said the First Consul ; speak ! " 

Morgan, without replying, drew a letter from his 
pocket, and presented it to the general. The latter ex- 
amined it. It was addressed to him, and sealed with the 
three fleurs de lis of France. 

" Oh," he said, what is this, sir T' 

"Read it." 

Bonaparte opened the letter and looked at the signature 
first. Louis % " he said. 

"Louis," repeated Morgan. 

"What Louis?" 

"Louis de Bourbon, I suppose." 

" The Comte de Provence, the brother of Louis XVI." 

"And consequently Louis XVIII. , since his nephew the 
Dauphin is dead." 

Bonaparte looked again at the stranger ; for it was evi- 
dent to him that the name of Morgan which he had given 
was only an assumed one, intended to conceal his true 
one. After which, looking again at the letter, he read : — 

January 3, 1800. 

Whatever may be their apparent conduct, sir, men like you 
never inspire uneasiness. You have accepted a high position, 
and I do not grudge it to you. Better than any one you know 
what force and power are necessary to make the happiness of a 
great nation. Save France from its own fury, and you will 
have fulfilled the wish of my heart ; restore its king, and 
future generations will bless your memory. If you doubt 



270 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



whether I am capable of gratitude, select your own place and 
that of your friends. 

As for my principles, I am a Frenchman. No ; the con- 
queror of Lodi, of Castiglione, and of Arcole, the conqueror of 
Italy and Egypt, cannot prefer vain celebrity to glory. Do not 
lose a precious opportunity. We can determine the glory of 
France. I say ' we,' because I need Bonaparte, and because he 
cannot do it without me. General, Europe is watching you ; 
glory awaits you ; and I am impatient to restore happiness to 
my people. 

Louis. 

Bonaparte turned around towards the young man, who 
was standing motionless and mute as a statue. " Do ou 
know the contents of this letter?" he asked. 

The young man bowed. "Yes," he said. 

" But it was sealed." 

" It was sent unsealed to the one who gave it to me, 
and even before he confided it to me he made me read it 
so that I might know its imjDortance." 

"And may I know the name of the one who gave it to 
your' 

" Georges Cadoudal." 

Bonaparte started slightly. "Do you know Georges 
Cadoudal 1 " he asked. 

" He is my friend." 
Why did he give this to you rather than to some one 
else?" 

"Because he knew that when he told me this letter 
must be put into your hand, it would be put there as he 
desired." 

" Well, sir, you have kept your promise." 
" Not entirely." 

" Why not ? Have you not given the letter to me ? 
"Yes; but I promised to bring back an answer." 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



271 



" And suppose I tell you that I will not give you one 1 " 
"You will have replied. Not exactly as I would have 

wished, to be sure ; but still you will have replied." 
Bonaparte remained lost in thought for a few minutes. 

Then, shrugging his shoulders, he said : '* They are 

fools." 

" Who are 1 '* asked Morgan. 

Those who write me such letters. Fools ! arch fools ! 
Do they think that I am one of those who follow other 
people's methods ; who model themselves upon other 
men 1 Shall I do as Monk did 1 Shall I create a Charles 
11. ? It is not worth the trouble. AVhen one has on his 
record Toulon, the 13th Vendemiaire, Lodi, Castiglione, 
Arcole, Rivoli, and the Pyramids, one is quite another 
man from Monk, and has a right to aspire to something else 
besides the duchy of Albemarle and the command of the 
armies of his Majesty Louis XVIII. by land and by sea." 

But they told you to make your own conditions, citi- 
zen Consul." 

Bonaparte started at the sound of this voice, as if he 
had forgotten that any one was there. To say nothing," 
he continued, "of the fact that it is a ruined family, a 
dead branch of a rotten tree. The Bourbons have inter- 
married until their race has degenerated ; all its strength 
and vigor were exhausted in Louis XIV. Do you know 
history, sir?" Bonaparte continued, turning towards the 
young man. 

"Yes, General,'' he replied. 

"Well, you must have remarked in history, and partic- 
ularly in that of France, that each race has its point of 
departure, its apex, and its decadence. Look at the di- 
rect line of the Capets; beginning with Hugues, they 
reach their height with Philip Augustus and Louis IX., 
and fall with Philip V. and Charles IV. Look at the 



272 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Valois ; beginning with Philip YI., they have their cul- 
minating point in Francis I., and fall Avith Charles 
IX. and Henry III. Then look at the Bourbons ; begin- 
ning with Henry IV., they have their highest point in 
Louis XIV., and fall with Louis XV. and Louis XVI. 
Only they fall lower than the others, — lower in debauch- 
ery w^ith Louis XV., lower in misfortune with Louis XVI. 
You speak to me of the Stuarts, and offer Monk to me as 
an example. Can you tell me who succeeded Charles II. ? 
James 11. And who succeeded James II. 1 William of 
Orange, a usurper. Would it not have been better, I ask 
you, if Monk had put the crown on his own head in the 
first place ] Well, now, if I should be fool enough to give 
the throne to Louis XYIIL, like Charles IL, he would 
have no children ; his brother, Charles X., would succeed 
him, and he would be driven from the throne by some 
William of Orange. Oh, no ! God has not put the des- 
tiny of this beautiful and great country which we call 
France into my hands, merely for me to return it to those 
who have played with it and lost it." 

" You will take notice, General, that I did not ask you 
all that." 

" But I ask you — " 

" I believe you are doing me the honor to mistake me 
for posterity." 

Bonaparte started, turned around, saw to whom he was 
speaking, and was silent. 

" I only wanted," continued Morgan, with a dignity 
wdn'ch astonished the one to whom it was addressed, "a 
* yes ' or ' no.' " 

^'And why did you want thaf?" 

"To know whether we should continue to make war 
upon you as upon an enemy, or whether we should fall at 
your feet as before a savior." 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 273 



" War ! " said Bonaparte, " war ! Those who make war 
against me are mad. Do they not see that I am the 
chosen one of God 1 " 

" Attila said the same thing." 

^' Yes ; but he was the elected one of destruction, and 
T am elected in a new era. The grass withered where he 
liad passed ; but harvests will ripen wherever I put my 
plough. War ! tell me what has become of those who 
waged it with me 1 They are lying upon the plains of 
Piedmont, Lombardy, and Cairo." 

''You forget la Vendee. La Vendee is still standing." 

" Standing, perhaps ; but what of its generals 1 What 
of Cathelineau, Lescure, La Eochejaquelein, D'Elbee, Bon- 
champ, Stofflet, and Charette 1 " 

"You speak only of men. The men have been cut 
down, it is true, but the principle remains ; and around 
it are fighting, to-day, D'Autichamp, Suzannet, Grignon, 
Frotte, Chatillon, and Cadoudal. Perhaps these younger 
ones are not worth as much as their elders ; but if tliey 
die in their turn, that is all that can be asked of them." 

" Let them beware ! If I decide upon a campaign in 
la Vendee, I shall not send either Santerre or Eossignol." 

" The Convention sent Kleber, and the Directory Hoche." 

" I should not send any one ; I should go myself." 

*' Nothing worse can happen to them than to be killed, 
like Lescure, or shot, like Charette." 

" It may happen to them that I pardon them." 
Cato has taught us how to escape Caesar's pardon." 

" Ah, take care ! you are quoting a republican." 
Cato is one of those men whose example can be fol- 
lowed, no matter to what party they belong." 

" If I should tell you that I hold la Vendee in my 
hand — " 

"You!" 

VOL. I. — 18 



274 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" And that if I wish, there will be peace there in three 
months 1 " 

The young man shook his head. 
" You do not believe me 1 " 
" I hesitate to do so." 

" If I tell you that what I say is true ; if I prove it to 
you, and tell you by what means, or rather by what men, 
I will accomplish it 1 " 

If a man like General Bonaparte tells me anything, 
I will believe it; and if the thing which he tells me is 
the restoration of peace to la Vendee, I tell him in my 
turn : Take care ! It would be better to have la Vendee 
fighting than la Vendee conspiring. La Vendee fighting 
is a sword ; la Vendee conspiring is a dagger." 

" Oh, yes ; I know your dagger," said Bonaparte ; 
" here it is ! " And he took from a drawer the poniard 
which he had received from Eoland's hands, and put it 
upon the table within reach of Morgan. " But/' he 
added, " it is a long distance from Bonaparte's chest to 
the assassin's dagger. Try it." And he advanced towards 
the young man, fixing upon him his burning gaze. 

" I did not come here to assassinate you, sir," said the 
young man, coldl3^ " Later, if I believe your death indis- 
pensable to the triumph of the cause, I shall do my best. 
Have you nothing else to say to me, citizen Consul 1 " con- 
tinued the young man. 

"Yes; tell Cadoudal that when he decides to fight 
foreigners instead of fighting the French, I have in my 
desk a colonel's commission for him, all signed." 

" Cadoudal commands, not a regiment, but an arm}'. 
You did not wish to descend from the rank of Bonaparte 
to that of Monk ; why do you desire him to become a 
colonel instead of a general ? Have you nothing else to 
say to me, citizen Consul ] *' 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



275 



" Yes ; have you any means of communicating my re- 
ply to the Comte de Provence T' 

" You mean to King Louis XVIII. 

" We will not quarrel about words ; to the one who 
wrote me." 

" His messenger is at the camp of the Aubiers." 

" Very well ; I have changed my mind. I will answer 
him. These Bourbons are so blind that perhaps he would 
misinterpret my silence." And Bonaparte, sitting down 
at his desk, wrote the following letter, with an indignation 
which made the writing firm and legible : — 

I have received your letter, sir. I thank you for the good 
opinion of myself which you express in it. You should not 
desire to return to France. To do it, you would have to walk 
over two hundred thousand corpses. Sacrifice your own interests 
to the peace and happiness of France, and history will give you 
credit for it. I am not insensible to the troubles of your family, 
and I shall learn with pleasure that you are surrounded by every- 
thing which can contribute to the peacefulness of your retreat. 

Bonaparte. 

And folding and sealing the letter he wrote the address : 
" M. le Comte de Provence." He handed it to Morgan, 
and then called Eoland, as if he knew very well that the 
latter was not far off. 

" What is it, General ? " asked the young officer, ap- 
pearing on the instant. 

"Take this gentleman as far as the street," said Bona- 
parte. ^' Until then you will be responsible for him." 

Eoland bowed in token of obedience, and allowed the 
young man, who went away without uttering another 
word, to pass him, following on behind. 

But before he went out Morgan cast a last look at Bona- 
parte. He was standing motionless and silent, his arms 
crossed, and his eyes fixed upon the dagger, which seemed 



276 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



to occupy his thoughts more than he would have con- 
fessed to himself. 

In crossing Roland's room, the chief of the companions 
of Jehu took up his cloak and pistols. While he put the 
latter into his belt, Roland said, — 

" So the First Consul has shown you the poniard which 
I gave him 1 " 

"Yes/' replied Morgan. 

" Did you recognize it " 

" No, not that one in particular. All our poniards are 
alike." 

"■ Well," said Roland, *' I am going to tell you where 
that one came from." 

" Ah, where did it come from 1 " 

" From the breast of one of m}'- friends, where your 
companions, or perhaps you yourself, had buried it." 

"Possibly," replied the young man, carelessly; "but 
your friend must have deserved this punishment." 

" My friend wanted to see what was going on at night 
in the monastery of Seillon." 

" He did wrong." 

"But I myself did the same thing on the previous 
night. Why did it not then happen to me 1 " 

" Because, doubtless, some talisman saved you." 

" Sir, I will tell you something. I am a man who pre- 
fers a straight road and broad daylight ; I have therefore 
a horror of mystery." 

" Happy are those who can walk in broad daylight upon 
a straight road, Monsieur de Montrevel." 

" That is why I am going to tell you the oath that I 
have taken. Wlien I drew- that dagger from my friend's 
breast, as delicately as possible, in order not to draw out 
his soul with it, I took an oath that there should be hence- 
forth war to the death between his assassins and myself ; 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



277 



and it was in a great measure for the sake of saying this 
to you that I gave you the word of honor which has pro- 
tected you." 

" That is an oath which I hope you will forget." 

" It is an oath which I shall keep upon all occasions ; 
and you will be kind enough to furnish me with one as 
soon as possible." 

" In what way, sir?" 
By agreeing to meet me either in the Bois de Bou- 
logne or in the Bois de Vincennes. There is no need of 
saying that we fight because you and your friends struck 
Lord Tanlay with a dagger. No ; you can give any reason 
you like. For example," — Koland thought for a moment. 
''The eclipse of the moon will take place on the 12th of 
next month. Will that pretext answer 1 " 

" The pretext would do well enough, sir," replied 
Morgan, in a melancholy tone of which one would have 
believed him incapable, "if tlie duel itself suited me. 
You have taken an oath, and you will keep it, you say. 
Very well ; all those who are initiated into the Company 
of Jehu take an oath also. It is that they will not ex- 
pose in a personal quarrel a life which belongs to their 
cause and not to them." 

" Then you assassinate, but you do not fight? " 

" You are mistaken ; we do fight sometimes." 

'' Be good enough to point out to me an occasion when 
I may see this phenomenon." 

" That is easily done. You have only, with five or six 
resolute men like yourself, to travel in some diligence 
wliich carries government money, and defend it when we 
attack it ; and the occasion which you ask will have been 
found. But if you will take my advice, you will do better 
than that ; you will not get in our way." 

"Is that a threat, sir?" asked the young man, hfting 
his head. 



278 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



"!N'o/* said Morgan, in a gentle, almost beseeching 
voice ; " it is a prayer." 

" Is it addressed to me in particular, or should you say 
it to every one ? " 

" To you in particular." The chief of the companions 
of Jehu emphasized the last word. 

"Ah," said the young man, "then I am fortunate 
enough to interest you?" 

" Like a brother," replied Morgan, always in the same 
gentle and caressing tone. 

" Then," said Eoland, decidedly, " this must be a 
wager." 

Just then Bourrienne entered. Eoland," he said, " the 
Eirst Consul is asking for you." 

" Give me time to take this gentleman to the street 
door, and I will be with him." 

" Make haste; you know he does not like to wait." 

"Will you follow me, sirV said Eoland to his myste- 
rious companion. 

" I have been ready for a long time, sir." 

" Come, then." And Eoland, taking the same route by 
which he had brought Morgan, conducted him, not to the 
garden door, for the garden was closed, but to that leading 
to the street. When they reached it he said to Morgan : — 

" Sir, I have given you my word of honor, and have 
kept it faithfully ; but that there may be no misunder- 
standing between us, tell me that this word of honor was 
for this time and this day alone." 

"That is how I intended it, sir." 

" Then you give me back m}'- word 1 " 

" I should like to keep it, sir ; but I recognize that 
you are free to take it from me." 

" That is all I desire. Aa revoir, Monsieur Morgan." 

"Allow me not to echo that wish. Monsieur de Montrevel." 



AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 



279 



The two young men bowed to each other with perfect 
courtesy, Eoland returning to the Luxembourg, and Mor- 
gan going in the shadow of the wall through one of the 
little streets which led to the Place Ste.-Sulpice. 

We will follow the latter. 



280 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 

Morgan had scarcely gone a hundred feet when he took 
off his mask : in the streets of Paris he ran a much 
greater risk of being noticed with a mask than without 
one. When he came to the Eue Taranne, he knocked at 
the door of a little house which stood at the corner of 
this street and the Rue du Dragon, entered, took a candle 
from a shelf and the key of No. 12 from a nail, and went 
upstairs without exciting more notice than any lodger 
who comes to his room after a short absence. Ten o'clock 
sounded as he opened the door of his room. He counted 
the strokes carefully, for the light of his candle did not 
reach the clock upon the mantelpiece, and then he 
muttered, — 

" Good ! I shall not be too late.'' 

In spite of this probability, Morgan seemed desirous 
of losing Tio time. He put a lighted taper to a great fire 
which was laid in the chimney, and which immediately 
blazed up ; then he lighted four candles, — all that there 
were in the room, — placed two on the mantelpiece and 
two on the bureau opposite, opened a bureau drawer, and 
put on the bed a complete costume in the height of 
style. It was composed of a coat cut short and square in 
front and long behind, of a delicate color, between sea- 
green and pearl-gray ; a waistcoat of chamois velvet, with 
eighteen mother-of-pearl buttons ; an immense white 
cravat of the finest linen ; pantaloons of white kersey- 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS, 



281 



mere, with a knot of ribbons at the place where they but- 
toned just above the calf; and stockings of pearl-gray 
silk, with diagonal stripes of the same green as the coat ; 
and elegant pumps, with diamond buckles. The indis- 
pensible eye-glass was not forgotten. As for the hat, it 
was the same as that which Carle Yernet has bestowed 
upon his beau of the Directory. 

When all was set forth, Morgan appeared to wait impa- 
tiently. At the end of five minutes he rang. A boy 
appeared. 

" Has not the hairdresser come yet ? " asked Morgan. 

" Yes, citizen," replied the boy, he came ; but you had 
not yet returned, so he said that he would come again 
later. But just as you rang the bell some one knocked at 
the door, and it was probably — '* 

"Here I am! here I am!" called a voice on the 
staircase. 

"Ah, bravo!" said Morgan. "Come, master Caden- 
ette, you must make an Adonis of me." 

" That will not be so very difficult, Monsieur le Baron," 
said the hairdresser. 

" Come, come ! do you want to compromise me abso- 
lutely, citizen Cadenette'?" 

" Monsieur le Baron, I beg of you, call me simply 
Cadenette ; that will honor me, for it will be a proof of 
familiarity. But do not call me citizen; fie! that is a 
Eevolutionary term ; and even in the worst of the Terror 
I always called my wife Mme. Cadenette. Now, I beg 
your pardon for not having waited for you ; but there was 
a large ball this evening in the Eue du Bac, a ball of the 
Victims," — the hairdresser emphasized the word. " I 
should have thought that Monsieur le Baron would have 
been there." 

" Ah," said Morgan, laughing, " so you are still a royal- 
ist, Cadenette'?" 



282 



THE COxAlPANIONS OF JEHU. 



Tlie hairdresser put his hand tragically upon his heart. 
" Monsieur le Baron," he said, " it is not only a matter of 
conscience, but of state." 

I can understand how it is a matter of conscience, 
master Cadenette, but of state ! What the devil has 
the honorable corporation of hairdressers to do with 
politics 

"What! Monsieur le Baron," said Cadenette, making 
his preparations to dress his client's hair, " do you ask 
that, — you, an aristocrat 1 " 

" Hush, Cadenette ! " 

" Monsieur le Baron, between ci-devants such things can 
be said." 

" And so you are a ci-devant ? " 

" A thorough one. What style of head-dress will you 
have?" 

" Dog's-ears, and the hair turned up at the back/' 

"With an eye of powder?" 

" Two eyes if you like, Cadenette.'* 
Ah, Monsieur, just think ! for five years there was no 
poudre a la marechale to be found except at my place. 
Monsieur le Baron, men have been guillotined for a box 
of powder." 

^^I have known people who have been for less than 
that, Cadenette. But tell me how you are a ci-devant, — 
I like to understand everything." 

"It is very simple. You admit, do you not, that 
among corporations there are more or less aristocrats % " 

"Oh, yes, according as they approach the higher classes 
of society." 

" That 's it. Well, we hold the higher classes of soci- 
ety by the hair. I myself dressed Mme. de Polignac's 
hair one evening ; my father did the same for Mme. du 
Barry, and my grandfather for Mme. de Pompadour. We 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 



283 



had our privileges, Monsieur ; we carried our sword. It is 
true that to escape accidents, which miglit happen between 
such hot-heads as we were, our swords were for the most 
part of wood ; but even if we did not have the real thing, 
we had the sj'mbol of it. Yes," continued Cadenette, with 
a sigh, " the times were beautiful, not only for hair- 
dressers, but for all France. We were let into all secrets 
and all intrigues ; nothing was concealed from us ; and 
there is not a single instance where a secret was ever be- 
trayed by a hairdresser. Look at our poor queen : to 
whom did she intrust her diamonds^ To the great, the 
illustrious Leonard, the prince of the coiffure ! Ah, well, 
it has only taken two men to overturn the scaffolding of a 
power which was based upon the perukes of Louis XIY., 
the puffs of the Regency, the crimps of Louis XY., and 
the galeries of Marie Antoinette." 

"And these two men, these levellers, these revolution- 
ists — who are they, Cadenette] Tell me, that I may, 
as much as lies in my power, devote them to public 
execration." 

"M. Rousseau and citizen Talma, — M. Rosseau, be- 
cause he said, ' Return to ISTature ; ' and citizen Talma, who 
invented the coiffures a la Titus." 

" That 's true, Cadenette, that 's true." 

" Well, when the Directory came in, we had a little 
hope. M. Barras had never left off powder, and citizen 
Moulin had kept his queue. But you can easily see 
how the 18th Brumaire has spoiled everything; for how 
in the world can any one dress M. Bonaparte's hair 1 — 
There ! " continued Cadenette, puffing out the dog's-ears of 
his client, "you have the true aristocrat's hair, — soft and 
fine as silk, and holding the tire until it looks like a verit- 
able wig. Look at yourself. Monsieur le Baron ; you are 
a perfect Adonis ! Ah, if Yenus had seen you, it was not 



284 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



' of Adonis- that Mars would have "been jealous." And 
Cadenette, proud of his completed work, handed a mirror 
to Morgan^ who looked at himself complacently. 

" Well, well," he said to the hairdresser, you are 
certainly an artist. Eemember this coiffure : if they ever 
cut off my neck, this is the coiffure that I shall choose, 
as there will probably be ladies at my execution." 

" Monsieur le Baron wishes to be regretted," remarked 
the hairdresser, seriously. 

"Yes j and in the mean time, my good Cadenette, here 
is a crown to pay you for your trouble. Have the goodness 
as you go down to tell them to call a carriage for me." 

Cadenette sighed. " Monsieur le Baron," he said, there 
was a time when I would have said to you, ' Show your- 
self at the court in that coiffure, and I shall be amply 
repaid ; ' but there is no longer a court. Monsieur, and a 
man must live. You shall have your carriage." 

So saying, Cadenette sighed again, put Morgan's crown 
in his pocket, made the reverential bow of hairdressers 
and dancing-masters, and left the young man to finish his 
toilet. 

When once the hair was dressed, the whole toilet was 
as good as done ; the cravat alone took some little time, 
but Morgan went through the ordeal like a veteran, and 
as eleven o'clock struck, he was ready to enter his carriage. 
Cadenette had not forgotten to deliver the message, and a 
fiacre was at the door. Morgan sprang into it, exclaiming, — 

"No. 60 Rue du Bac." 

The fiacre took the Eue de Crenelle, turned up the Rue 
du Bac, and stopped at No. 60. 

" Here is double fare, my friend," said Morgan, " on 
condition that you will not stop at the door." 

The man took his three francs and disappeared around 
the corner of the Rue de Varennes. 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 



285 



Morgan looked up at the house ; he might have been 
excused for thinking that he had made a mistake, so dark 
and silent did it appear. However, he did not hesitate ; 
he knocked in a peculiar manner. The door opened. At 
the end of the courtyard was a building brilliantly lighted. 
The young man went towards it ; as he drew nearer, he 
heard the sound of instruments. He went up one flight 
and found himself in the dressing-room. He gave his 
cloak to a servant who had charge of the wraps. 

" Here is a number," said the man to him. " As for 
your weapons, put them in the gallery where you can re- 
cognize them again." 

Morgan put the number in his pocket, and entered a 
great gallery, which had been transformed into an arsenal. 
Here was a collection of weapons of all sorts and sizes, — 
pistols big and little, rifles, swords, and daggers. As the 
ball might at any moment be interrupted by an invasion 
of the police, it was important that each man should be 
able instantly to transform himself from a dancer to a 
combatant. 

Freed from his weapons, Morgan entered the ballroom. 

We are afraid our pen will fail to give our readers a 
correct idea of the appearance of this ball. As a general 
thing, as its name indicated, no one was admitted to this 
hall except those who had a right to go, by reason of 
having relatives who had been sent to the scafl"old by the 
Convention or the Commune of Paris, or who were shot 
by Collot-d'Herbois, or drowned by Carrier; but as dur- 
ing the three years of the Reign of Terror just passed the 
guillotine had had more victims than anything else, the 
costumes in the majority were those of victims of the scaf- 
fold. Thus, the greater part of the young girls whose 
mothers and elder sisters had died beneath the hand of 
tlie executioner wore the costume which had been donned 



286 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



by mother or sister for the supreme and dreadful cere- 
mony; namely, the white dress, the red shawl, and the 
hair cut even with the neck. Some, to add to this costume, 
already so characteristic, a still more significant detail, had 
put around their neck a thread of red siYk, fine as the 
edge of a razor, indicating the passage of the steel be- 
tween the mastoid muscles and the collar-bone. As for 
the meu, their coat collars were turned back, their shirts 
open, their necks bare, and their hair cut. 

But many had another right to come to this ball besides 
that of having had victims in their family ; many had 
themselves made victims. There were men there, forty or 
forty-five years old, who had been brought up in the 
boudoirs of the beautiful courtesans of the seventeenth 
century, — who had known Mme. du Barry at Ver- 
sailles, Sophie Arnoult nt the house of M. de Laur- 
aguais, and Duthe with the Comte d'Artois; who had 
borrowed from the politeness of vice the varnish with 
which they covered their ferocity. They were still young 
and handsome ; they entered the salon shaking their 
odorous locks and perfumed mustaches, — a precaution 
which had its advantages, for if they had not smelt of 
amber and vervain, they would have given forth the odor 
of blood. There were men there twenty-five and thirty 
years old, dressed with exquisite elegance, who were a 
part of the association of Avengers ; who had seemed to 
be seized with a monomania for assassination and murder ; 
who delighted in shedding blood, and whose appetite for it 
never was satiated ; who, when the order came to kill, killed 
whoever was indicated, were he friend or foe ; who made a 
business of murder ; who received the bloody draft which 
required of them the head of a Jacobin, and who paid it 
at sight. Tliere were young men there, eighteen or twenty 
years old, almost children, but children who were nour- 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 



287 



ished like Achilles, — from the marrow of wild beasts ; 
as Pyrrhus was fed with the flesh of bears. They were a 
part of that strange generation which springs up after a 
great political convulsion, as the Titans uprose after 
chaos, the hydras after the deluge, and as vultures and 
crows appear after a slaughter. There was a bronze 
spectre, immovable, implacable, which they called Retal- 
iation. And this spectre mingled with the living ; it en- 
tered gilded salons and made a sign with a glance, a 
gesture of the hand, a movement of the head, and people 
followed it. 

The Terror had affected great cynicism in its clothing, 
a Lacedaemonian severity in its repasts, and in short the 
deep-rooted scorn of a savage for everything pertaining to 
art and beauty. The Thermidorian reaction, on the con- 
trary, was distinguished by elegance, ornamentation, and 
wealth ; it exhausted all luxuries and all voluptuousness, 
as under the reign of Louis XV. ; but it added the luxury 
of vengeance, the voluptuousness of blood. All this youth- 
fulness went by the name of Freron, or "jeunesse doree." 

Why should Freron, rather than any other, have had 
this strange and fatal honor I cannot tell you ; my re- 
searches, — and those who know me will tell you that when 
I want a thing I do not spare any pains to get it, — ray 
researches have taught me nothing. It was a caprice of 
Fashion; and Fashion is the sole goddess who is more 
capricious than Fortune. 

Our readers of to-day hardly know who Freron was, 
and Voltaire's laughing-stock is better known than he who 
was the patron of these exquisite assassins. One was the 
son of the other. Louis-Stanislas was the son of Elie- 
Catherine ; the father died of rage at seeing his paper sup- 
pressed by the keeper of the seals, Miromesnil. The otlier, 
irritated by the injustice of which his father had been the 



288 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

victim, had at first ardently emlDraced Revolutionary prin- 
ciples, and in place of the " Annee litteraire," which was 
killed in 1775, he created the " Oratear du penple.'^ He 
was sent into the South as a special agent, and the people 
of Marseilles and Toulon still remember his cruelties. 
But all was forgotten when on the 9th Thermidor he came 
out as an enemy to Robespierre, and aided in hurling from 
the altar of the Supreme Being the colossus which had 
made of itself a god. Freron, repudiated by the IMoun- 
tain, which abandoned him to the heavy jaws of Moise 
Bayle ; Freron, repulsed with disdain by the Gironde, who 
gave him up to the imprecations of Isnard, — Freron, as 
the terrible and picturesque orator Du A^ar says, all naked 
and covered with the leprosy of crime as he was, was re- 
ceived, caressed, and petted by the Thermidorians ; then 
from that camp he passed to that of the Royalists ; and 
without having done anything to deserve the fatal honor, 
found himself suddenl}'- at the head of a powerful party of 
youth, energy, and vengeance, placed between the passions 
of the times, which threatened everything, and the power- 
lessness of the law, which endured everything. 

It was through this gilded youth, this party of Frerons, 
lisping, giving their word of honor on all occasions, that 
Morgan pushed his way. All these young people, it must 
be added, in spite of the costumes they wore, in spite of 
the memories which those costumes awoke, were hilariously 
gay. It was incomprehensible, but it was a fact. Explain 
if you can this dance of death, which at the beginning of 
the fifteenth century, with the fury of a modern galop, 
unrolled its rings in the cemetery of the Innocents, and 
let fall in the midst of the tombs fifty thousand of its 
funereal dancers. 

Morgan was evidently looking for some one. A young 
exquisite, who was just putting into a bonbonniere held 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 



289 



out to Lim by a charming victim a blood-recl finger, the 
only part of his delicate hand which had escaped the 
almond paste, tried to stop him, in order to give him the 
details of the expedition from which he had brought 
back this bloody trophy ; but Morgan smiled, pressed the 
hand which was gloved, and said, — 

" I am looking for some one." 

" Is it urgent 1 " 

" Company of Jehu." 

The young man with the bloody finger allowed him to 
pass. 

An adorable fury, as Corneille would have said, whose 
hair was confined by a dagger with a point as sharp as 
that of a needle, barred his passage, saying, — 

"Morgan, you are the handsomest, the bravest, and 
the worthiest of being loved of all those who are 
here. What reply have you for a woman who says that 
to you 1 " 

"I reply that I love her," said Morgan, "and that my 
heart is too narrow for one hate and two loves." And he 
continued his search. 

Two young men who were disputing, one saying " He 
is English," and the other, " He is German," stopped 
him. 

"Ah," exclaimed one, "here is a man who can decide 
for us." 

" JSTo," returned Morgan, trying to break through the 
barrier which they formed, " for I am in a hurry," 

" You have only to say one word," returned the other. 
Saint-Amand and I have laid a wager. He says that the 
man who was judged and executed in the monastery of 
Seillon was a German, and I say he was English." 

" I don't know," replied Morgan ; " I was not there. 
Ask Hector ; he presided on that evening." 

VOL. I. — 19 



290 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" Where is Hector 1 " 

" Tell me rather where is TifFauges ; I am looking for 
him." 

" Yonder, at the end of the room," said the young man, 
indicating a spot where the dancing was yet more joyous 
and animated. " You may recognize him by his waist- 
coat; neither are his pantaloons to be despised. I am 
going to have some like them the first chance I get." 

Morgan did not take time to ask what there might be 
remarkable about Tiffauges's waistcoat, or by what odd cut 
or precious material his pantaloons had won the approba- 
tion of a man as expert in such matters as the one to 
whom he had just spoken. He went straight to the spot 
indicated, and saw the one for whom he was looking danc- 
ing a pas dete, and seeming from his cleverness and 
" knitting " (if I may be pardoned the technicality) to 
have come from the salons of Yestris himself. Morgan 
made a sign to the dancer. Tiffauges stopped instantly, 
bowed to his partner, led her to a seat, excused himself 
on the plea of urgent business, and took Morgan's arm. 

" Did you see him % " asked Tiffauges. 

" I have just left him," replied the other. 

"And you gave him the king's letter 1" 

" I gave it to himself'^ 

"Did he read itV' 

" Immediately." 

" And did he give a reply ? " 

" He gave two, one verbal and one written ; the latter 
includes the former." 
"And you have it?" 
"Here it is." 

"Do you know the contents?" 

It is a refusal." 
"Positive?" 



THE BALL OF THE VICTIMS. 291 



"Emphatically so." 
Does he know that from the moment we no longer 
have any hope of him we shall treat him as an enemy 1 " 
" I told him so." 
" And what did he reply 1 " 

" He did not reply, — he shrugged his shoulders." 
" What do you think he means to do 1 " 
*' It is easy to guess." 

''Does he want to keep the power for himself] " 

" It looks like it to me." 

" The power, but not the throne ? " 

" Why not the throne 1 " 

" He would not dare to make himself king." 

"Oh, I don't know whether he wants to he a king, 
exactly ; but he means to be something." 

" But he is nothing but a soldier of fortune." 

" My friend, in these days it is better to be a self-made 
man than the grandson of a king." 

The young man remained lost in thought. " I will tell 
Cadoudal," he said. 

"And add that the First Consul said these very words : 
' I hold la Vendee in my hand, and if I like I can restore 
peace there in three months.' " 

"That is a good thing to know." 

" You know it ; let Cadoudal know it, and make your 
own profit out of it." 

Just then the music ceased suddenly ; the hum of the 
dancing was stopped ; there was a great silence, in the 
midst of which four names were pronounced by a sonorous 
and emphatic voice. The four names were those of Mor- 
gan, Montbar, Adler, and D'Assas. 

" I beg your pardon," said Morgan to Tiffauges, " they 
are probably arranging some expedition in which I am to 
take part ; therefore, to my great regret, I am forced to 



292 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



bid you adieu. But before leaving you, will you allow 
me to look a little more closely at your waistcoat and 
pantaloons? I have heard them spoken of, and hope you 
will pardon my curiosity." 

" Why, certainly ! " said the young Vend^ean. 



THE BEAE-SKIN. 



293 



CHAPTEE XXYII. 

THE BEAR-SKIN. 

And with a swiftness and complacency which did honor 
to his courtesy, he approached the candles which were burn- 
ing on the mantelpiece. 

The waistcoat and pantaloons appeared to be made of 
the same material ; but what was that material 1 It was 
this which puzzled all the connoisseurs. The pantaloons 
were not remarkable in cut, and were of a light color, be- 
tween chamois and flesh color ; there was nothing unusual 
about them, except that they were seamless, and that they 
fitted like a glove. The waistcoat, on the contrary, had 
two characteristic signs which called attention more par- 
ticularly to it ; it had been pierced with three bullets, 
whose holes were still there ; and a little red paint around 
them made them look as if the blood were still spouting 
forth ; besides which, on the left side, was painted the 
bleeding heart which served as a means of recognition 
among the Vendeeans. 

Morgan examined the objects with the greatest atten- 
tion, but without result. " If I were not in such haste," 
he said, "I would guess the riddle by myself; but, as 
you know, the committee have probably received some 
news. It is about money, and you can tell Cadoudal ; but 
it will have to be taken to him. I usually command these 
expeditions, and if I delay, another will take my place ; 
tell me, therefore, what your clothes are made of." 



294 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



" My dear Morgan," said the Yendeean, " you have per- 
haps heard that my brother was taken in the neighbor- 
hood of Bressuire, and shot by the Blues." 

"Yes, I knew it." 

*' The Blues were retreating ; they left the body under 
a hedge ; we pursued them so closely that we came up 
just behind them. My brother's body was still warm. In 
one of his wounds the branch of a tree was stuck, with 
the words, ' Shot as a brigand by me, Claude Flageolet, 
corporal in the Third Paris Battalion.* I took care of my 
brother's body, and I had a piece of the skin removed 
from his chest ; it had in it three bullet-holes, whicli 
eternally cried for vengeance; and of this I made my 
battle waistcoat." 

" Ah," exclaimed Morgan with an astonishment which 
was not unmixed with terror, "so this waistcoat is made of 
your brother's skin 1 And the pantaloons ? " 

" Oh," replied the Yendeean, " that is another thing. 
Those are made with the skin of citizen Claude Flageolet, 
corporal in the Third Paris Battalion." 

Just then the same voice was heard again, calling for 
the second time, and in the same order, upon the names 
of Morgan, Montbar, Adler, and D'Assas. Morgan darted 
from the room. He wont the length of the ballroom, and 
turned towards a little salon on the other side of the 
dressing-room. His three companions, Montbar, Adler, 
and D'Assas, were already waiting for him there. 

With them was a young man wearing the costume of a 
cabinet messenger, the green-and-gold coat of the govern- 
ment livery. He had the dusty top-boots, the little cap 
with a visor, and the dispatch-bag, which constitute the 
essential paraphernalia of a cabinet courier. A very com- 
plete map of Cassini was on the table. 

Before telling what the courier was doing there, and why 



THE BEAR-SKIN. 



295 



the map was spread out upon the table, let us glance at 
the three new personages whose names just now resounded 
through the ballroom, and who are destined to play an 
important part in the remainder of this story. 

The reader is already acquainted with Morgan, at once 
the Achilles and the Paris of this strange organization, — 
Morgan, with his blue eyes and black hair, his tall and 
well-knit figure, and his graceful form ; his eye which never 
seemed dull; his mouth with its fresh lips and white 
teeth, and ever ready smile; his remarkable face, com- 
posed of a mixture of elements which seemed strangers to 
one another, and in which one read strength and tender- 
ness, sweetness and energy ; and all this combined with a 
dazzling expression of gayety which became almost ter- 
rible when one considered that this man was eternally 
courting death, and death in its most frightful form, — 
upon the scaffold. 

As for D'Assas, he was a man of thirty-five or more, 
with bushy hair, wdiich was growing gray, although his 
eyebrows and mustache were still as black as ebony ; as 
for his eyes, they were of that admirable shade which 
approaches chestnut. He was an ex-captain of dragoons, 
admirably built for physical and moral war, whose mus- 
cles showed strength, and whose face indicated obstinacy. 
For the rest, he was of a noble figure and great elegance 
of manners, perfumed like a dancing master, and always, 
either from habit or love of luxury, smelling at a flask of 
English salts or a scent-box containing the most subtle 
perfumes. 

Montbar and Adler, whose true names were not known, 
any more than w^ere those of Morgan and D'Assas, were 
usually called among their companions " the inseparables." 
Imagin Damon and Pythias, Euryale and Nisus, Orestes 
and Pylades, at twenty-two years, — one joyous, loqua- 



296 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



cious, and noisy ; the other sad, silent, and thonghtful ; 
sharing everything alike, from their dangers to their gold ; 
completing each other, reaching together the limits of all 
extremes ; each in danger forgetting himself to watch 
over the other, — and you will have an idea of Montbar 
and Adler. 

It need scarcely be said that all three were companions 
of Jehn. They were assembled, as Morgan had suspected, 
on business for the company. When Morgan entered, he 
went straight to the pretended courier and shook hands. 

" Ah, my dear friend," said the latter, making a move- 
ment backward as if to indicate that however good a horse- 
man one may be, one cannot ride with impunity for fifty 
leagues on the saddle of posthorses, " you are having a 
fine time, you people here in Paris ; and compared to you, 
Hannibal was on briars and thorns ! I only glanced into 
your ballroom in passing, as became a poor cabinet courier, 
bearing despatches from General Massena to the First 
Consul ; but it seemed to me that you had a fine choice 
of victims there. But, my poor friends, you must say a 
temporary adieu to all that. It is disagreeable ; it is 
unfortunate ; it is heart-rending : but the House of Jehu 
before all." 

" My dear Hastier," said Morgan. 
Hallo ! " said Hastier ; " no proper names, if you 
please, gentlemen ! The Hastier family is an honest family 
of Lyons, carrying on business, as they say, on the Place 
des Terreaux, from father to son. They would be very 
much humiliated if they knew that their heir was a cabinet 
courier, travelling on the high-roads with the national 
wallet on his back. Call me Lecoq as much as you like, 
but Hastier never; I do not know Hastier. Do you, gen- 
tlemen 1" he continued, addressing Montbar, Adler, and 
D'Assas. 



THE BEAR-SKIN. 



297 



*'No," replied the three youDg men, "and we ask 
pardon for Morgan, who made a mistake." 

"My dear Lecoq," began Morgan again. 

"There," interrupted Hastier; "1 will answer to that 
name. Now, what do you want to say to me V 

" I want to say that if you were not the antipodes of 
the god Harpocrate, whom the Egyptians represented with 
a linger on his mouth, instead of listening to your non- 
sense we should have known before this the reason for 
this costume and this map.'^ 

" And if you do not know it already," said the young 
man, " it is your fault and not mine. If it had not been 
necessary to call you twice, engrossed as you were with 
some beautiful Eumenide, demanding of the handsome 
young living nian vengeance for some old dead parents, you 
would know as much as these gentlemen, and I should not 
have to repeat myself. Now, listen ! it is simply a question 
of a remnant of the treasure of the bears of Berne, which, 
by order of General Massena, General Lecourbe has sent 
to the First Consul. A mere trifle, a hundred thousand 
francs, which they dare not send by way of the Jura on 
account of the partisans of M. Teysonnet, and which they 
have sent by way of Geneva, Bourg, Macon, Dijon, and 
Troyes, — a much safer road, as they will find." 

" Very good ! " 

" The news was sent to us by Eenard, who came from 
Gex on a posthorse, and told I'Hirondelle, who is stationed 
for the moment at Chalon-sur-Saone ; he sent it on to 
Auxerre to me, Lecoq, who have just come forty-five leagues 
to tell you. As for the minor details, here they are. The 
treasure left Berne on the 28th Nivose, in the year VIII. 
of the Eepublic, triple and indivisible. It should arrive 
to-day at Geneva; it will leave there to-morrow on the dili- 
gence from Geneva to Bourg ; so that by setting out this 



298 



THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 



very night, on the day after to-morrow you can, my dear 
orotliers in Israel, meet the treasure of Messieurs the 
bears between Dijon and Troyes, near Bar-sur-Seine or 
Chatillon. What do you say 1 " 

" Well," said Morgan, " it seems to me there should 
not be two opinions about it ; of course we should never 
have permitted ourselves to touch the money of my lords 
the bears of Berne if it had never left their lordships' 
coffers ; but since its destination has been already changed, 
I see no harm in changing it a second time. But how 
sliall we go 1 " 

Have n't you a post-chaise hereT' 

*'Yes." 

" Have you any horses to take you to the next post 1 " 
" They are in the stable." 

Have you not each of you a passport 1 " 
" We each of us have four." 
" Well, then]'' 

"Well, we cannot stop the diligence in a post-chaise; 
it is true we do not give ourselves any too much trouble, 
but we do not take our ease quite to that extent." 

" And why not ] " asked Montbar. It would at least 
have the merit of being original. I do not see why, since 
they board ships from small boats, we cannot also board 
a diligence from a post-chaise. We had not thought of 
this before ; shall we try it, Adler 1 " 

" I should ask nothing better," replied the latter ; "but 
what would you do with the postilion 1 " 

"That's so," said Montbar. 

" That has been provided for, my children," said the 
courier. "A messenger has been sent to Troyes; you will 
leave your post-chaise with Delbauce, and you will find 
there four horses all saddled and stuffed with oats ; you 
will calculate your time, and the day after to-morrow, or 



THE BEAR-SKIN. 



299 



rather to-morrow, for midnight has already struck, the 
money of my lords the bears will pass a very uncomfort- 
able quarter of an hour." 

"Shall we change our costume?" asked D'Assas. 

"What fori" asked Morgan ; '* it seems to me that we 
are very presentable as we are ; never has diligence groaned 
under the weight of better dressed men. Give a final 
glance at the map ; transfer from the refreshment table to 
tlie carriage a pie, a cold fowl, and a dozen bottles of 
champagne; arm ourselves at the arsenal; throw some 
good cloaks about us, — and good-by ! " 

" That is a good idea ! " said Montbar. 
I should think so," said Morgan. "We will kill the 
horses, if necessary ; we will be back here by seven o'clock 
in the evening, and we will show ourselves at the Opera." 

" Which will establish an alibi," said D'Assas. 

" Exactly," replied Morgan, with his irrepressible gay- 
ety ; " how can any one suppose that men who applaud 
Mile. Clotilde and M. Vestris at eight o'clock in the 
evening could have been occupied in the morning, be- 
tween Bar and Chatillon, in settling accounts with the 
conductor of a diligence 1 Come, now, a glance at the 
map, to choose our place." 

The four young men leaned over Cassini's work. 

" If I presumed to give you any advice as to the place," 
said the courier, ^'it would be to lie in ambush a little 
this side of Massu ; there is a ford opposite Riceys, — see, 
there ! " And the young man pointed out the precise 
spot upon the map. I should go to Chaource, there ; 
from Chaource you have a government road, straight as 
an arrow, which leads you to Troyes ; there you find your 
carriage again, and you take the road to Sens instead of 
that to Coulommiers ; the gossips — and there are some in 
the provinces — who saw you pass on the previous night, 



300 THE COMPANIONS OF JEHU. 

will not be astonished to see you going back again the 
next day; you will be at the Opera at ten o'clock in- 
stead of eight, which is much better style, and you will 
have been neither seen nor known, I warrant you." 

"Agreed, as far as I am concerned," said Morgan. 

"Agreed/' repeated the three others in chorus. 

Morgan drew out one of the two watches whose chains 
hung at his belt ; it was one of Petitot's chefs-d'oeuvre in 
enamel, and on the double case which protected tlie paint- 
ing was a diamond cipher. The beautiful toy had been 
made for Marie Antoinette, who had given it to the 
Duchesse de Polastron, and she had given it to Morgan's 
mother. 

" One o'clock in the morning," said Morgan ; " come, 
gentlemen, at three o'clock we must be changing horses 
at Lagny." 

From that moment the expedition was begun, with 
Morgan as its chief; he no longer consulted, he ordered. 
D'Assas, who commanded in his absence, yielded him im- 
plicit obedience when he was present. 

A half an hour afterwards a carriage containing four 
young men wrapped in their cloaks was stopped at the 
barriere Fontainbleau by an official who demanded their 
passports. 

" Oh," he said, as he passed his head in at the window, 
" so you are going to Grosbois, to hunt witli the citizen 
Barras] Go ahead, coachman ! " 

The coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage 
passed on. 



END OF VOL. I. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



